


Piece by Piece

by Atanih88



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Time, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 17:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16581299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: Three years after the end of the Infinity War, the world prepares to celebrate its third anniversary of freedom. The world doesn't realize that the heroes who fought for them are a little broken. But hey, maybe broken together, is better than broken and apart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Marvel Universe Big Bang 2018](https://marvel-bang.livejournal.com). This was supposed to be a 10k fic. The pacing just wouldn't fit and...well. It turned into this. I apologise in advance. I still don't know how this happened or what exactly this is lol. But I thank anyone who takes a chance on it and reads it. Hope you enjoy it, even if just a little.
> 
> Please check this accompanying art by frosted_astronaut! (Link to be added.)
> 
> Massive thank you to audreytiphaine for the beta, wouldn't have made it without you. No, seriously. I really wouldn't have. ♥

Work functions aren’t what they used to be.

Tony’s never been a fan of them but it’s ten times more awkward when there are things he has to attend and that Pepper has to attend and—Tony ends up by the bar, glass in hand and watching Pepper and Martin. Martin who is Pepper’s fiancé. Who Pepper started dating a year ago. Martin who wasn’t really supposed to get anywhere with her because of course, Tony would’ve found a way to win Pepper back and move on with life post the whole Thanos destroying the world and Tony’s life thing. 

The damage to the world had been reverted. The damage to Tony’s life, not so much. But hey, one out of two wasn’t bad. At the time Tony had counted it as a win. That’s what being a superhero is about right? Making sacrifices, losing things in your personal life for the greater good of mankind etc.

‘Mr Stark?’

‘Hmm?’ Tony blinks and turns to the man standing in front of him who is glaring at him, face mottled red. It really doesn’t suit him, especially with the necktie looking like it’s choking him and the white hair topping the man’s head. Tony doesn’t remember his name.

Before he can remember it though, FRIDAY’s voice in his ear snatches his attention. ‘Mr Parker has exited his building. Karen is monitoring progress.’ Tony closes his eyes on a sigh. When he opens them again it’s to flick a look at the time on his wrist. It’s 12.13 AM. Roughly the same night as every night since this started happening. 

‘FRIDAY, I need a lock down on his location as soon as he stops. Keep me posted.’

‘Yes, Mr Stark.’ 

Tony pulls off the glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah. So not what he needs tonight.

‘Mr Stark.’ 

Mottled face guy is staring at Tony, looking even more pissed off than he had just a few minutes ago and Tony really doesn’t care.

‘Oh. Sorry, I think I missed the last five minutes of that convo, but good talk!’ He walks away as the man splutters and tries to get him back. 

The event is one that Tony would’ve avoided at all costs if it hadn’t been for Pepper hounding him day and night. 

It’s a celebration. A celebration of the day Earth’s mightiest heroes managed to claw their tiny little corner of the galaxy back. All the people here are laughing and taking pictures together, waiting for the great unveiling of the memorial that has been kept out of the public eye for the year it’s taken the government to get it ready all for today. There are fireworks at the ready and a speech by the President. Tony doesn’t want to be here for any of it.

It’s one of those typical glittering things, diamond earrings and expensive gowns, men in tuxes and stiff, immaculate waiters weaving their way through the crowds with their trays of canapés and champagne. Tony figures he’s done his good deed, he’s shown up, schmoozed a little. He thinks he may have even made the two hour mark. He’s more than earned his escape. So he starts making his way towards the exit, brushing off hands with a smile and giving out a few harder than necessary back pats along the way. Besides, if every other Avenger has managed to duck out—even Rhodey declined, then he figures he gets a break too.

He hates these things. Doesn’t particularly like the people either.

What they saved the world for, huh.

By the podium, Pepper spots Tony and makes a quick motion for him to wait. She puts a hand on Martin’s shoulder, her mouth curving gently as she says something to him. Tony tries not to think about how she used to smile like that for him.

Before.

She looks beautiful, dressed in a long white fitted gown that flows with her every step, shoulders bared by the sleeves that fall off the cusp of her shoulders and hair swept up. Pepper has always been a stunning woman. 

‘Tony,’ she says when she catches up to him, hand already reaching for him before she catches herself. She lets her hand fall back to her side. The ring on her finger is like a miniature star under all the lights. Pepper catches him looking and her fingers curl in on themselves. She smiles, it’s too soft and there’s an awkwardness there when their eyes meet. The smile becomes stronger, like she’s determined not to let the strain show. ‘You’re leaving?’

Tony tucks his hands into his pockets and makes a show of looking around. ‘Yeah, this crowd’s too wild for me,’ he meets her eyes, ‘besides. You’ve got this.’

The smile on her face wobbles and then slowly, fades into something quiet and sad. ‘You could stay? We could—’

‘Pepper,’ Tony says, quiet and reaches out to briefly touch her hand. He rubs a thumb over her ring, gentle, reverent. There’s a dull ache in his chest. ‘Martin’s waiting for you.’ He drops her hand and smiles at her. ‘I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Make sure things don’t get too crazy. Be good.’

And then he turns around and heads straight for the door.

He needs a drink.

 

~

 

It’s easy to spot Peter.

He’s not hiding.

It’s not the highest building Peter could’ve picked but it’s high enough that they have a decent skyline view of the city, the Hudson reflecting the city lights and the deepness of the night sky.

Tony steps onto the roof easily and is out of the suit and walking towards him before Peter even turns around to look at him. Not that he needs to. Whatever powers that spider bite had given the kid have only grown sharper as the years have gone on and Peter’s spider sense is ridiculous. He’d probably heard Tony coming from a mile away.

Tony steps up to the edge where Peter’s legs are dangling over the side of the building. Peter’s swinging them back and forth. He’s got his mask in his hand and he hasn’t looked up at Tony yet. His hair is standing straight up in places from yanking the mask off. The breeze is cooler up here but not particularly strong. Tony slides his hands into his pockets and stares down at the top of Peter’s head.

Peter’s filled out a bit over the last couple of years. He’s gained a few inches for one and since entering training under the Avengers Initiative, he’s gotten more toned, his arms more defined. There were blogs dedicated to Spiderman’s ass - or so Tony has heard. His face has stayed the same though, always expressive with his emotions stamped for everyone to see. Tony kind of wants to see it right now, to try and understand what Peter’s thinking.

‘It’s kind of quiet tonight,’ Peter says. It’s startling to hear his voice after standing there and listening to the New York night. ‘You don’t have to be here, Mr Stark.’

Tony shrugs, even though Peter’s not looking at him. ‘Don’t have another place to be just now, kid.’

That makes Peter tip his head back and give him a look. 

Peter looks—Peter looks tired. His eyes are dark in the night and serious. Too serious. The skin under them thin and shadowed. 

‘You’re supposed to be at the anniversary party. I know that’s where you were. Karen told me,’ Peter says.

‘And you’re supposed to be in bed. You’re a college student Peter.’

Peter sighs and kicks a leg out. ‘I’m fine.’

‘It’s the seventh time this week.’

‘That’s called stalking, you know.’

‘What’s going on Pete?’

Peter shrugs. ‘It’s nothing, Mr Stark. I’m just tired.’

‘So why are you here, looking for fights to pick with petty criminals that the police can take care of instead of in your bed trying to sleep?’ 

Okay so that comes out a bit harsher than Tony means it to, but it’s been a long night and the lead up to the anniversary bash has put Tony on edge. 

Finding out that Peter’s been walking around like death warmed over hasn’t helped anything. Tony had been hoping it wouldn’t be anything serious but three weeks since receiving a call from May telling him she thought Peter might be struggling again, the problem clearly hasn’t gone away. Hence why Tony is now standing here, approaching 2 AM, trying to pry the issue out of a kid who could bench press Tony in his car.

A muscle ticks in Peter’s jaw as he clenches it and Tony watches as Peter bunches his hands into fists before forcing them to relax again.

‘I don’t want to worry May.’

Alright. So they might get somewhere. ‘What’s going on that May should be worried?’

Peter is quiet for long enough that Tony thinks he won’t say anything else. Then he shifts, turning so that he’s facing Tony, curling one leg under him and leaving the other dangling. When Peter meets his eyes his shoulders are slumped. ‘I thought they’d stopped, you know? I mean, I haven’t had one in like, months. I don’t know why they’re coming back.’

Tony considers getting down to sit next to Peter but—well. The thought of folding down and having to get back up—sue him if he’s feeling a little lazy. His knees aren’t what they used to be.  
‘Nightmares are back huh?’

Peter’s throat bobs as he swallows. He drops his gaze and nods. ‘A few weeks back. I thought—I thought maybe they’d go. The shrink said they might come back sometimes but that they would go again. But they’ve been non-stop.’

Tony’s not the only one who’s been on edge. It grates on him, that he didn’t think this might be affecting them, all the others who had been on the front line. Especially Peter.

‘So what,’ Tony sucks it up and tucks his hands into his pockets, ‘you were just planning on not sleeping for a while? ‘Cause that’s smart.’

‘No, I just—’ Peter runs a rough hand through his hair, ‘I just wanted to keep busy. It’s fine. I’ll go home now. Try again.’ Except then he goes to push himself up to his feet and when he stands, Tony’s heart jumps into his throat as Peter sways on the spot, eyes going hazy and unfocused for a second. 

‘Whoa there,’ Tony shoots forward, locks his hands around his Peter’s arms, ‘Pete?’

Peter’s hands come up, hands coming up to cup Tony’s elbows, gripping tight. ‘Um. Sorry, just. Everything is kind of moving right now.’

And despite this, Peter had been swinging around the city doing his friendly-neighborhood-spiderman schtick. Tony presses his lips together to keep from starting a lecture right then because it makes him feel older than he likes to feel, but mostly because he doesn’t think it would even really sink in right now.

‘Okay, that’s it. Let’s go. You’re coming with me.’

‘What? Mr Stark—’

‘Zip it. We’ll discuss this later after you’ve gotten some sleep.’

‘I don’t want May to—‘

‘I meant as in you’re coming home with me.’


	2. Chapter 2

Tony calls a car for them and Peter feels exhausted down to his bones. 

Every bone in his body feels like it weighs twice its weight, the web glands on his wrists are throbbing and his eyes hurt. Before Tony had arrived, he hadn’t even put out any of his senses, had just climbed up the building and once he’d sat his ass down on the roof he hadn’t been able to move.

The back of the car is quiet and Peter’s slumped against the door, head pressed to the car window, lolling with the curves and bumps of the road. He’s got his eyes closed but he can sense Tony on the opposite side, can hear the tapping of his finger on his phone as the car moves.

To be honest Peter just wants to go home, but it had taken May so long to finally start relaxing and believing that Peter was healing that he doesn’t want to set them back. She’s had to deal with so much already. The look on her face when Peter had woken up from the dream had sobered him up so quickly. She’d been pale, glasses askew on her face and eyes wide with fear. He’d been screaming, she’d said. And Peter had known then that they nightmares were back.

It had taken Peter a year of seeing a professional. 

They call it parasomnia, a result of everything he’d been through. And they had gone away but now, they were back and hitting him night after night after night. Peter’s been feeling the control slipping through his fingers, helpless in his own mind. 

It’s like bits of him are disappearing and that thought tightens his throat, makes something in his chest hurt so bad that he has to press a hand to it just to alleviate the phantom sensation. 

But god. He just wants to sleep. 

He just wants to be able to hit a bed and not have to worry that he might wake up to May crying at his bedside, to seeing that sorrow creeping into her expression over breakfast. As if he might cease to exist in the blink of an eye. 

Tony looks at him that way sometimes too, when he doesn’t think Peter is looking. 

It used to be worse when they’d first come back. 

Tony had been checking in with Peter obsessively, then. That had eased with time, but Tony had never stopped keeping tabs on him. Peter’s always known this. Tonight is just proof of that.

It makes Peter wonder if he’s not the only one still dealing with the aftermath of a war he hadn’t been prepared for. That no one had been prepared for.

A touch to the shoulder startles Peter and he lifts his head with effort. In the dark interior he can see all of Tony’s features perfectly. His hand is hot on the curve of Peter’s shoulder and his face is tense, eyebrows scrunched together behind the glasses, mouth pressed into a thin line as he peers into Peter’s face. 

‘We’re here. Come on.’ Then Tony’s opening the door on his side and getting out. 

He stands by the open door despite the driver hovering behind him who’d been planning on doing the same thing. Peter wonders where Happy is as he scoots over, movements frustrating in their sluggishness. But he finds Tony’s hand on him again, solid and reassuring, settled right in the middle of his upper back. And Tony sticks close, pressed along Peter’s side as he ushers him up the stairs leading to the house. Peter hears him saying something to the driver but doesn’t hear what.

It’s odd walking into Tony’s house. It’s not like Peter hasn’t been here before, it’s just so different. At his own place, Peter would be able to smell the carnitas stall down the street, hear the traffic in motion beneath their apartment and the barking dogs in the apartment a few doors down from them and in the one above. There’s none of that here. 

‘FRIDAY, lights.’

Brightness fills the room and Peter’s not expecting it, he flinches and covers his eyes with his hand, groaning.

‘Welcome home, Mr Stark.’

Tony keeps moving, taking Peter with him. ‘Have you eaten?’

Peter tries not to stumble over his feet. God he hasn’t felt like this in so long. He feels pathetic. He leans more heavily on Tony accepting the support he’s offering. ‘I had a sandwich.’

‘Alright.’

Their steps echo in the silent house. A few moments later Tony’s pushing open a door and guiding Peter in. Peter hears him ask FRIDAY for lights and prepares himself for the attack of brightness but the light that fills the room is a soothing, warm yellow glow that turns the room into something ridiculously inviting. It takes Peter a moment but he recognises it as one of Tony’s guest rooms. The bed is huge, anyone visiting is drawn to the sheer size alone. There’s a desk tucked into a corner and a sofa chair by the sliding doors that lead out onto the balcony, a huge closet and another door opposite the bed that Peter knows from past visits, leads to an en suite.

‘Take a shower. I’m gonna get you some clothes and food and then you’re getting your ass in bed and staying there.’

Peter blinks, starts to say okay but Tony is already walking out, so he goes into the bathroom instead, turning on the shower. The water spurts out and he’s not quick enough to avoid it falling onto his suit but it just glides right off the material.

His mind is wiped of everything as steam starts to fill the room. He’s left the door open and it billows out into the room beyond. Peter undresses on autopilot, leaves the suit on the bathroom floor and slips under the spray with a groan of pure appreciation when the jets of hot water hit his skin. He ducks his head under it, letting the water stream down on him, plastering his hair to his face and pouring into his eyes and his mouth. He presses his forehead to the still cool tiles of the shower stall and the contrast is pure bliss.

That’s where he is when Tony walks back in. 

‘Tell me you’re not asleep in there, Parker.’

Peter opens his eyes, blinking rapidly as water blurs his vision. ‘Wha—’

The exasperated sigh is loud. The hands that settle on his shoulders and pull him gently back are rough, rubbing against Peter’s skin as they tug him out from under the spray. The towel that’s draped over him is huge and soft and Peter just wants to melt into it. 

‘Come on. You need to get some food in you.’ 

‘Thanks, Mr. Stark,’ he murmurs and manages to lift his head. He frowns because he’s staring at Tony’s chest, the white shirt covering it is soaked and sticking to Tony’s chest. ‘Sorry,’ the word feels thick on his tongue. Peter’s surprised he’s still standing at this point.

Tony sighs. Gentle fingers comb through his hair. ‘Don’t worry about it, kid.’

Yeah, he’s not a kid anymore but Peter hasn’t got the energy to have that debate right now.

Peter doesn’t know what food he wolfs down, just eats it on autopilot while sitting on the edge of the bed, Tony’s t-shirt hanging off him. Peter hadn’t had enough energy for the shorts. Tony eats with him, sitting at the desk chair with his legs propped up and his head leaning back. He takes the empty plates out of Peter’s hand when they’re done.

‘Try and get some sleep. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ Peter says. The mattress sinks under his knees as he crawls to the head of the bed. ‘Mr. Stark?’

‘What?’

Peter sinks his head right into the pillow and just breathes for a moment. ‘If you hear me—could you come wake me up?’

There’s a pause. And then: ‘Yeah. I can do that.’

The relief that courses through him is the most powerful sleep drug. ‘Thanks. I don’t want to disappear again.’

Sleep comes thick and takes him.

~

Morning surprises Peter. Mainly because he didn’t spend the night awake watching morning arrive.

Sitting up in bed, he sees the towel from the night before is still on the floor where he left it. His suit is neatly folded on the sofa chair by the balcony.

The clock on the bedside table reads 07.37 AM. 

He slept through the night.

The fact that he’d managed to get more than an hour of two of sleep leaves him feeling a mix of relieved and surprised. Having said that, Peter’s not looking forward to leaving the room and facing Tony. Despite how out of it he’d been the previous night, he hadn’t missed the note of disapproval in the other man’s voice. He’d heard it before, multiple times and it normally didn’t end well for Peter.

Still, Peter throws the covers off. He looks at the mattress that enveloped him like a dream and he’s tempted to just slide back in and not think about anything else but he knows that if he does, he won’t be falling back to sleep, even if he can still feel exhaustion hanging onto him by the edges of its nails.

He finds the shorts Tony had brought him the night before and slides them on, then pads out of the room and into the hallway barefoot.

The sound of ACDC is coming from the kitchen, not too loud, not as loud as Tony normally blares his music in the workshop but loud enough.

Tony sits at the kitchen island in a white tank top and soft looking loose black pants, scraps of metal and tools and notes spread everywhere. There’s a pencil tucked behind his ear and he’s got his glasses on. There’s a mug on the island and the kitchen smells strongly of coffee. His concentration is total.

‘Um. Morning.’

Tony looks up.

Peter can’t help standing there awkwardly and he scratches at his left shoulder, adjusting the t-shirt where it’s falling off. It’s not that Tony is all that much bigger than him, they’re practically the same height they just fill out their clothes differently. Even with his additional training, Peter’s build hasn’t changed much, he’s packed on some muscle but remained lean. 

‘You got some sleep.’

Peter nods and rubs at the back of his neck. ‘Yeah, I did. Thanks.’ He walks to the island, eyes roaming over the mess, already trying to figure out what Tony’s putting together.

‘You should’ve slept in for longer.’ Tony sets the tool and the piece he’s working with down on the table. ‘There’s breakfast,’ Tony points at the breakfast bar where there are dishes covered in tinfoil. ‘Eat something and call your Aunt. I let her know you were here but I think she’ll feel better if she hears from you herself.’

‘Okay.’ Peter wanders over. He can smell bacon and his mouth waters. ‘What are you working on?’ he asks. The foil crinkles as he pulls it back. Scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, a bowl of cut up fruit and next to that some kind of smoothie that could be strawberry or raspberry, Peter can’t tell which. He scoots up onto the bar stool and picks up the fork to start eating. He hasn’t even brushed his teeth but his stomach feels like a gaping hole right now that keeps yawning wider and wider. Peter starts shoving food in his mouth.

‘Tinkering. Don’t know what’s coming out of it yet,’ Tony says. His words are short and he’s tinkering with the device again. 

Peter drops his eyes to the food and the eggs he’d been enjoying lose some of their appeal, but he keeps eating. For a moment the only words in the kitchen are from another song as it starts up. It leaves Peter feeling out of place, the relief of having managed even a few hours of sleep dissipating as tension begins to seep back in along the line of his back. 

He’s almost done with his food when the music suddenly cuts off. 

His head snaps up and he finds Tony leaning back on the chair, eyes locked on him.

Peter swallows down the bite of food and settles the fork on the plate before dropping his hands back to his lap and clamping them between his thighs as he waits.

‘You did something stupid last night.’

Peter stiffens but doesn’t say anything.

‘I spoke to your Aunt—’

‘What—’

‘Hey.’ The word is sharp, like the crack of a whip and Peter’s mouth snaps shut even as he can’t help glaring at Tony. Frustration, already so close to the surface stars to bubble through and it costs Peter to keep his mouth closed. Tony’s eyes are narrowed on him. ‘You have a responsibility to yourself, to your Aunt, to me. To those people that you’re out there trying to keep safe. You can’t help any of them if you’re not safe. May says this has been going on for two weeks. Karen’s log says that it’s been going on for longer. You could barely walk last night. What if something happened to you?’

An awful sense of deja-vu starts to crawl over Peter and he’s already standing from his chair, shaking his head. ‘Mr Stark—’

‘Fury’s agreed. We’re benching you, if you can’t be trusted to take care of yourself then you shouldn’t be out there trying to help people.’

Peter stares at him, feeling like the room is closing in on him. ‘What? You can’t—you can’t just do that! I was handling it—’

‘Handling it would’ve been coming to me, or to literally any one of the highly qualified professionals at the compound to start getting this taken care of.’

‘But this isn’t permanent!’

‘No. It won’t be, but only if you get your shit together, kid.’

Peter snaps. ‘I’m not a kid,’ he throws his hands up in the air, powerlessness echoing through him, ‘you’re just coming in and making all these decisions—you haven’t even spoken to me about them. If you’ve known about it for so long why didn’t you say anything before now if it’s such a big problem? I get that last night was bad. It was bad. But I wasn’t even doing anything. I just needed to get out. I didn’t involve myself with any incidents. I was being responsible.’

‘And if something had happened you wouldn’t have gone?’

‘That’s—’ Peter comes to a halt, teeth grinding because he can’t deny it and he won’t lie.

‘That’s what I thought.’

Anger cracks open Peter’s mouth. ‘You’re being a hypocrite.’

Tony goes still. 

Peter feels the change, as if Tony’s mood is charging the air. It sets Peter’s teeth on edge.

‘Come again?’ Tony says, his voice slow and careful. His brown eyes are razor sharp behind his glasses, like they’re daring Peter to open his mouth and carry on.

Peter straightens up and glares right back. 

Everything is balling together and Tony’s not being fair. 

‘What about you?’ Peter sends a sharp glance at the work that Tony has spread all over the island. ‘I’m not sleeping? I’m not taking care of myself? I’m not the only one standing here looking like he hasn’t seen a bed in months. You’re not the only one keeping a watch on people. FRIDAY talks too you know? You’re spending most of your time in the workshop, you don’t even show up to most of the events that you’re supposed to. It’s all over the compound. People talk. So why is it only me when you’re the one who barely even leaves the building, spending all your time down there, monitoring everyone all the time? And no one says anything about it. Why is it different when it’s me?’

Peter’s chest is heaving by the time he’s done, but he’s just so—so—

‘Are you done?’ Tony’s voice is still dangerously soft. ‘You’re benched. You’re keeping your ass out of that suit for the next three weeks. Don’t test me on this, kid. You really don’t want to push me.’

‘I’m not a kid!’

‘Then don’t act like one.’ Tony turns his back on him and starts walking out of the kitchen. ‘Make yourself comfortable. Happy’s bringing your stuff. For now you’re staying where we can keep an eye on you.’

Peter stands there as Tony walks away, feeling mute, all the strength that can’t help him here, trapped in the hands fisted at his sides.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony hadn’t expected it.

Peter’s grown up. Tony knows that. Tony’s been very aware of that for a long time. And it’s not like they haven’t gone toe to toe before, had differences of opinion. But this time it feels different.

Happy arrives just after lunch time, eyes darting suspiciously between Peter’s closed off expression (which fools absolutely no one) and Tony’s sharp eyes. 

Peter takes his things from Happy with a thank you and a tight smile. The look he gives Tony is a different story before he excuses himself and takes his stuff up to the room he’d slept in last night.

Happy watches Peter leave the room, eyebrows arched and mouth frozen on the beginning of a ‘what’. ‘Something happen?’

‘The kid and I had a talk. It didn’t work out so well for him.’

Happy scoffs and shakes his head, like he doesn’t have time for this. ‘Not a kid. And Pepper’s looking for you. I’m not your personal gofer, pick up your phone.’

‘You kind of are!’ Tony calls after him.

So Tony’s left standing there, in the kitchen, bits and pieces of his work scattered all over. His gaze jumps to the phone he hasn’t looked at since the night before. His coffee has gone cold but he finishes it anyway before refilling it. So he needs a little extra fuel, so what? Doesn’t mean the kid is right. He unlocks it and scrolls quickly through the messages and missed calls. Pressure starts to build right between his eyes and has Tony digging his thumb into the spot just to try to alleviate it.

Half an hour later he’s showered and dressed and heading out.

‘FRIDAY, keep an eye on Parker for me. I’ll be at the compound if he needs me.’

‘Yes, Mr Stark.’

It’s bright outside, the crystal blue of the sky feels like it’s mocking him because he doesn’t really need the weather feeling this happy right now. 

‘Mr Stark, incoming call from Pepper Potts.’

Tony flicks a look at the hologram of Pepper’s pace floating right next to his. 

‘A bit busy right now, FRIDAY. Take a message.’

‘Of course, Mr Stark.’

And if the guilt is scraping at the bones of his chest, Tony’s fine at ignoring it for now.

The reason for all the missed calls from the Avengers facility on his phone becomes clear when Tony drives into compound and sees a very familiar tall figure on the steps leading up to it. 

By the time Tony parks, Steve’s already opening the door for him, a smile on his face.

Tony eases out, rolling his eyes as he straightens his blazer, looking at Steve over the rim of his glasses.

‘I know you’re old fashioned but I think you’ve missed the part where I’m not a damsel, Captain.’

Steve smiles, an easy thing that oozes boy next door charm. ‘Different times, Tony, all about equality.’ 

Tony would never admit it, but he’s missed Steve Rogers.

‘Finally decided to rejoin the world as a man instead of a yeti huh?’ Tony says, nodding at the bare skin on Steve’s face.

Steve laughs and shakes his head, rubs a hand self consciously over the side of his face. He shrugs. ‘I got kinda used to it. Feeling a bit self-conscious without it.’

Tony sticks out his hand. ‘How’ve you been Cap?’

Steve ducks his head and chuckles. ‘Not bad.’ He grasps Tony’s hand and pulls him into a hug, patting Tony’s back with more force than Tony thinks is necessary. ‘Rhodey was just catching me up. Brought a couple of beers too.’

Yeah. Steve should come back and visit more often.

~

‘How’s your husband doing?’

Rhodey chuckles from where he’s leaning against the bar, beer in hand.

‘Bucky,’ Steve says, and gives Tony a pointed look, ‘is fine. It’ll be hard to drag him away from Wakanda.’

‘Oh? Found something he likes there?’

Steve smirks which is unexpected for him. ‘You could say that.’ 

Well that’s surprising. ‘Oh yeah? Anyone we know?’

Steve gives a small shrug. ‘It’s not something that’ll stay quiet for long, I’ll tell you that.’ Steve pulls off the cap and sets it on the table. He takes up his beer and gestures at Tony. ‘You’ll be seeing him soon enough. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone back together again.’ His smile takes on a different edge then, sorrow clinging to the corners of his mouth.

Rhodey lifts his beer in a toast. ‘Yeah, it will.’

Tony lifts his in solidarity and drinks too, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable.

Steve sets down his beer. ‘How about you, Tony? How’ve you been?’

‘He’s having trouble with a certain baby Spider or so I’ve heard.’

Tony groans, lets his head fall back. ‘Really? 

Rhodey lifts his hands, placating. ‘Hey, you’re the one who asked FRIDAY to pass along the information that you benched him. How’s he taking it?’

The bottle of beer is cold in Tony’s hand. He smooths a thumb down over the label, rubbing the damp paper with it until it starts to come apart under the persistent friction.

I don’t want to disappear again.

Tony takes the bottle and gulps down two thirds of it in one go. 

Both Steve and Rhodey stare at him, bewildered.

‘That bad?’ Rhodey asks, easing out from around the bar and coming to take a seat next to Steve. 

‘What happened?’ Steve asks, looking from one to the other. ‘Something’s wrong with Peter?’

Tony sighs and rubs his hands over his face. ‘We’re handling it. Kid’ll be fine.’

Steve frowns and sits up, leaning towards Tony. ‘Not exactly a kid anymore, Tony.’

Yeah, that headache is building back up. ‘Look, I get it. Kid’s over eighteen. But he’s not being smart about his choices or keeping his head clear. I get where he’s coming from—it’s not like I don’t understand what he’s going through. That’s not the part that worries me. What’s shitty is that he didn’t even consider reaching out for help and put himself and others in jeopardy.’

Rhodey gives a low whistle. ‘Please tell me that’s not what you said to him. I mean—maybe that speech coming from someone like Steve might’ve worked but…’

‘Seriously?’

Steve shrugs, looking sheepish and apologetic all in one go. ‘You’re not exactly making responsible choices yourself.’

He can’t believe this. What is this? Gang up on Tony day? ‘Wait. Am I hearing this right? You’re siding with the kid on this?’

Rhodey snorts. ‘What? He actually said that to you?’

‘Said it? No. Kid lost his shit at me.’ He finishes the rest of the beer and gets up, pacing over to the glass separating the building from the expensive view outside. 

‘I suppose,’ Steve says, taking his time as if he’s thinking through what he’s about to say very carefully, ‘we’re all still coping. It’ll take a long time. Everyone deals with it in their own way.’ His voice goes quiet at the end and when Tony looks at him, Steve’s staring off at some far away non-existent point.

‘Yeah, well. We don’t all know how to deal with losing people on the battlefield.’

Steve doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Just keeps looking at him with his steady gaze, a razor sharp perception. ‘But you didn’t lose him.’

The glass rotates easily in Tony’s hand, he drags his thumb over the smooth surface as he turns it in his hand over and over. ‘I did. We just made sure we got him back.’

Steve nods. 

Is that why his relationship with Pepper failed? The sleepless nights, the obsession with keeping tabs on every one of their team, of making sure everyone got everything they needed. It’d taken so long to help the world and the Avengers recover from the end of the world, Tony doesn’t remember the majority of that year. it’s all a blur of rebuilding, of watching every person he considered a friend breaking down and putting themselves back together. He’d kept it together throughout the whole thing. But he didn’t notice when Pepper stopped sleeping in their bed because he hadn’t been there often enough to take notice. 

He remembers Peter, though. He remembers being there for every one of Peter’s appointments with the AI shrinks, waiting outside, coffee in hand, feeling like death warmed over because he knew that as soon as Peter got out there’d be so much more to do. But it had worked. Peter’s never talked to him about it, not truly, but Tony watched as the dark circles under Peter’s eyes started to fade, as he started smiling and laughing again.

Because the worst thing had been when they’d gotten back and he’d watch Peter hug Aunt May and there’d been this glassy quality to his eyes. He’d held her so tight, mouth pressed into a thin line and knuckles white, like he wasn’t sure if she’d be dragged away from him or disappear in his arms. It’d been in the way Peter had looked at his friends, had touched his things, the way Peter watched Tony whenever Tony was in the room. Like he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t just dissolve into nothing in the room and cease to exist to the people around him.

And now it’s as if all that progress is being undone.

‘You should look after yourself, Tony,’ Steve says, finally.

‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ Rhodey says.

Tony watches as Steve’s gaze focuses somewhere over his shoulder. 

They’re all just trying to cope, Steve had said.

‘Is Wanda coming?’ Tony asks.

When Steve meets his gaze, the lightness that had been there when Steve greeted him earlier disappears. 

‘No.’

~

When Tony gets back it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

‘FRIDAY,’ Tony makes his way over to his drinks cabinet, searching out the bottle of whisky that he knows will burn a path down his throat, ‘deets on Parker’s location.’

‘Mr. Parker is currently located at his residence in Queens.’

Tony pauses, tumbler in hand, whisky bottle in the other. He sighs, drops his head. ‘When did he leave?’

‘Two hours and thirty three minutes and seven seconds after your departure.’

Tony sets the tumbler down on the table and sighs, rubbing his eyes hard enough that he feels a dull ache in the back of his eyeballs. When he opens them, he has to blink a few times to get rid of the slight blurriness. Tony pours, watching the amber liquid as it climbs and climbs. And climbs a little more. Whoever came up with a finger of whisky clearly didn’t lead Tony’s life. ‘On a scale of one to ten, ten being he’d like to bury my dead body so not even super powered sniffer dogs can find me, how pissed was he?’

‘A ten, sir.’

‘Right.’ He sets the bottle down and downs it all in one go, eyes burning as badly as his throat. He sets the empty glass down, reaches for the bottle again.

‘Mr. Stark, before leaving Peter agreed to the stipulations of his temporary inactive status and asked me to assure you that he will wait out the three week period as decided by yourself and SHIELD. In accordance with this, he has left the latest Spiderman suit in the guest room previously allocated to him.’

Yeah. So that feels like a slap to the face.

‘Low blow, Parker. Low blow,’ Tony mutters.

He pours himself another drink.

Not like he’s planning on sleeping tonight anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

‘How long are you going to be hanging around here?’

Peter nuzzles into the cat he’s currently cuddling to his chest. It’s a soft calico and it’s peering up at him with a pair of mismatched gold and blue eyes.

‘Peter.’

He snaps his head up and finds MJ looking at him from behind the front desk of the shelter. She has her sketchbook and her laptop open and she looks unimpressed. Well. MJ always looks unimpressed. But she’s looking particularly unimpressed right now.

‘Uh.’ He doesn’t really know what to say. And to be honest, Peter’s pretty comfortable where he is right now. If MJ lets him, he might even doze off for fifteen or thirty minutes. He’s wedged into the soft old armchair in the reception area, big enough for him to really sink into it. It’s a faded navy blue that had been fetched out of a garage sale a few years back like the rest of the furniture filling the shelter’s reception area. ‘Should I go?’ Is what he eventually settles for.

Evening has firmly descended and Peter’s watched the progression of the sun going down with dread weighing heavier and heavier on him. Because evening means no sleep.

It’s been a week since he left his suit at Tony’s. Happy had taken him. Peter had tried protesting, because he didn’t want to get Happy in trouble—not that he thinks Happy would, Tony doesn’t work like that—but Happy had just given him that look. The one that throws Peter back to being fifteen and constantly checking his phone to see if there were any new calls or messages from Happy. 

Peter had spent the rest of that day not checking his phone because he hadn’t wanted to see a call or voicemail from Happy with a message from Tony telling him to get his ass back. Peter hates disappointing people he likes. Luckily his phone had stayed blissfully phone call and voicemail free.

Surprisingly—or not—that doesn’t sit well with him either. 

The calico, Alley Cat, delicately stretches out, placing her paws on Peter’s shoulder and stretching, pretty eyes closing before scooting further up on Peter’s chest and tucking herself up under his chin.

MJ rolls her eyes and turns back to her laptop, typing furiously at it, her curly bangs falling to cover her eyes.

‘You look like crap, Peter.’

Peter grimaces. He lets his head fall back.

‘I can’t help it,’ he says, stroking his fingers through Alley Cat’s fur. He closes his eyes.

‘Yeah. Okay. Well. Maybe you can go not help it somewhere else. My boss is gonna be here soon. Doubt she’ll be happy that you’re here. Again. And that you haven’t adopted the cat. Again.’

Peter groans. ‘I’m sorry—it’s just—I can’t concentrate, okay? And May freaks out every time she sees my face. And I’m trying to sleep, okay? But it’s not working and I don’t know what to do and the shrink is telling me it’ll go away but—but, it’s not!’

‘But you said you slept when you stayed over at Stark’s. Just go back.’

He shoves to sit up and glare at her. ‘No!’ Alley Cat doesn’t like that. Sharp nails pierce his shoulder and Peter hisses, holding her away from him and giving her a betrayed look. Maybe Alley Cat is MJ’s spirit animal.

MJ stares him down, deadpan. It doesn’t take very long for Peter to give in and look away. ‘Peter. Take the cat. And get some sleep.’ She leans her arms on the counter and her expression softens. ‘I know you’re not happy about the situation but…at least when he took you away you managed to get some rest. The only decent rest you’ve gotten in a long time. Your body needs a break.’

‘I’m trying,’ he mutters.

Her expression hardens. ‘Try harder. Look. I don’t agree with how Stark handled this but he’s right. Right now, it’s dangerous for you to go out like this. I know—’ she puts up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth, ‘you can take care of yourself. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. Don’t be dumb. Now go away, I need alone time. No one gives me peace these days,’ she mutters and starts typing. ‘And fill out Alley Cat’s paperwork. You don’t get to use her and then leave her. You’re taking her. Men.’

And that’s how Peter finds himself taking the subway, cat carrier in his lap, eyes almost sliding shut from the rhythmic sway of the train.

Huh. Maybe he should just ride the subway at night and see if he can sleep then.

~

Peter’s shouldering the front door open, cat carrier clutched to his chest, bag overflowing with cat stuff MJ had pushed at him dangling from his wrist and keys between his lips. The door is yanked open and Peter just manages to catch his balance.

May looks down at him, mouth open and half reaching to steady him. And beside her is Pepper Potts.

‘Peter! I was calling you! I was getting worried…’ May eyes the carrier. ‘Is that a cat?’

‘Uh, yeah, this—this is Alley Cat.’ He looks at May and gives her a weak smile. ‘I sorta adopted her? Um, today?’

May sighs. ‘Peter…’

May is another person in his life who is great at making him feel like he’s fifteen again. 

So despite Pepper Potts standing there, Peter shifts his feet, looking away, and swallows to wet his dry throat. ‘She kinda helps me nap. Sometimes,’ he shrugs, ‘I don’t know why? Well, actually there are studies about—about—PTSD, and.’ His throat closes up. He can’t make himself look at May.

‘Okay,’ May says and steps forward. She takes the cat carrier from him. She smiles when she peers inside. ‘She’s pretty. What are we naming her?’

‘So her name was Alley Cat? I kinda like it,’ he shrugs.

May sets the carrier down. Peter closes the door behind him and lets the bag slide off his hand and onto the floor. May opens the door and eases back to give Alley Cat room.

May’s smile widens when Alley Cat pokes her nose out to sniff delicately at her new surroundings. ‘Well. Ms Potts came by to see you. How about you make her something to drink and you guys can sit down and talk. Alley Cat and I will get better acquainted.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Peter smiles, ‘thanks May.’

May stands, Alley Cat twining between her ankles, and she pecks Peter on the cheek. ‘Well. I larb you.’

Peter ducks his head, chuckling as a sense of well-being settles over him despite the exhaustion weighing him down. ‘Larb you too.’

‘And Peter? She says, lowering her tone.

‘Yeah?’

‘Listen to what Ms Potts has to say, okay? I think maybe,’ she sighs and shrugs, ‘maybe this is something you might need right now.’

Peter flicks a look over at Pepper where she’s watching them with a soft smile on her face. He gives her a tight smile and nods.

‘Okay then,’ May says and scoops up Alley Cat. ‘Alley Cat and I are off for some bonding.’ 

Peter watches her walk out and sighs, rubs his hands over his face before dropping them and giving Pepper an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry Ms Potts. Uh, can I get you anything?’ he asks, rubbing his hands on his jeans. It feels weird to be empty handed after having his hands full for a while. ‘The kitchen’s this way.’ He jerks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen and starts for it.

‘Thank you, Peter, and I’m sorry to intrude on you so late at night.’

‘It’s no problem, Ms Potts,’ he shrugs again, ‘I was kinda out anyway and it’s not like I’m gonna get much sleep tonight.’ Peter heads over to the cabinet, listening to the sound of Pepper’s heels as she follows him in. Ifhe dials up his senses a tiny touch more, he can hear May’s voice as she plays with Alley Cat.

‘Yeah… I’ve heard about that.’ 

‘So, um,’ he says, taking a look, ‘I got coffee?’

‘Coffee’s fine, thanks. Black, one sugar.’

‘Sure thing, Ms Potts.’ 

They’re quiet while Peter quickly makes two cups of coffee.

When he sets Pepper’s hot mug in front of her, Pepper smiles her thanks and hitches herself up onto the stool. Peter does the same, hands wrapped tightly around his own. 

Is it possible to feel the bags under his eyes getting heavier? Peter thinks it might be.

‘What’s this about Ms Potts? Is everything okay?’ Which it must be. If something were up, it would’ve been To—

Peter drops his gaze.

So maybe walking out hadn’t been the best thing he could’ve done but to be honest, he hadn’t wanted to stay there. Not when the person who was supposed to understand was being a dick about it. And maybe in the following nights of Peter lying awake in bed and unable to shut his eyes and sleep, maybe, maybe, he’d thought that he’d overreacted too. But when you’re not sleeping it’s kind of hard to be as rational as you would normally be.

For a moment Pepper’s quiet, her hands wrapped around the mug. It looks out of place against her well manicured nails. It’s an old ALIEN mug. Peter kind of likes it. He bought it after—well. After. And it kind of made him feel better when it had arrived and he’d held it in his hands. Sure, it’s super ugly, but like—weirdly enough, it reminds Peter of what they all went through. And more importantly, it reminds him that they won.

Though his definition of winning had taken a critical hit. Winning would’ve been making it out of the Infinity War with everyone on their side intact. With everyone there. That had been Peter’s definition of winning.

He looks away from the mug and up at Pepper’s face. She’s watching him, the smile still lingering in small lines around her mouth but it’s faded now.

‘This might be awkward but, I’m sure you know that Tony and I haven’t been together in a long time.’ She laughs at herself. ‘Wow, that’s a bad start. Of course you know. Everyone knows. It was plastered all over the news when it happened.’

Peter shifts in his stool, tugging the collar of his t-shirt away from his neck and looking away from her. Because yeah, definitely awkward. ‘Um, yeah—I mean yes. I know.’

‘Sorry,’ Pepper says again, wry. She takes a sip of her coffee and her eyes do a little arching thing, eyes lighting up. ‘Good coffee,’ she murmurs to herself. She doesn’t look up again. ‘I’m not bringing it up just to bring it up, and like I said I don’t want to make it awkward for you. See, I know Tony. Tony’s a good man, Peter. But he’s also a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass with tunnel vision. Not all the time. Not when it matters. But he can’t let go of things. He pretends to. He’d prefer it if everyone believed he was invincible. But Tony’s not. And you know that. You were up there with him.’

Peter swallows and tightens his hand around his own mug, lets the heat of it burn itself into his palm. He shouldn’t have made himself coffee; maybe tea. May had bought him herbal tea. He should be avoiding caffeine.

‘I thought he wasn’t coming back. I thought, this time I’ve lost him for sure. I’m not going to get Tony back.’ She smiles again, crooked. It’s hard for Peter to meet her eyes because the pain is still there and it hurts him to see it. Because he can feel it all like it was yesterday. ‘He came back. Of course he did. And so did you. But not everyone did. And that meant—that there were parts of him I’d never get back too. I’m gonna be honest with you Peter. I think you’re all a little broken.’

Peter blinks rapidly. He’s clenching his mug so hard now it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken. ‘Uh—’

‘I don’t think you should be alone right now.’

‘I’m not alone. May—’

‘Your aunt doesn’t know what you’re going through. Neither do I. We will never understand what you’ve been through. And Tony’s an idiot. He should’ve just been honest with you. You’re not the only one that doesn’t sleep, Peter. Tony has—’ she stops herself. Peter sees her visibly reign in the emotion that has steadily begun to flood her tone. She squares her shoulders and holds her head up high. ‘Tony’s coping just like you. And I think maybe, maybe if you two helped each other in this, then something might actually change. Get better. You all deserve that.’

Peter swallows. ‘I don’t—what are you asking me?’

‘I’m asking you to be there for Tony. And to let Tony be there for you. I think he needs that. Someone to check him on his crap. At the same time, he needs you to be safe. You more than anyone. I think you know don’t you? He told me about what happened over there. Tony feels like he brought you into this, Peter.’

‘But I was already Spiderman—,’

‘Yes, you were. But when you met Tony, you became part of a bigger picture. At least that’s how Tony sees it. If anything happened to you, I’m not sure he’d recover.’

And if you died, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience. 

‘Yeah,’ Peter says. ‘I know,’ he says.

‘Your Aunt said you got some sleep when you slept over there.’

Peter nods.

‘Maybe you could think about it? It might help. Sometimes, it’s something as small as a change of environment. And if you’re there, maybe it won’t be so bad for Tony either.’

Peter swallows and nods again. ‘Okay.’

‘Peter.’

Peter glances up.

Pepper smiles at him. ‘Thank you. You’re a good man, Peter.’ She finishes her coffee then and stands. ‘I better get going. Sorry again for stopping by so late.’

‘No really, it’s okay. I’ll walk you to your car—‘

Pepper waves it away. “I’ll be fine.’

‘No really,’ Peter stands, ‘let me. It’s only downstairs right?’

‘Right. Thank you.’

Peter calls out to May that he’s walking Pepper down and then walks her down—really has to walk her down because the elevator hasn’t worked in forever—and then he stands on the sidewalk, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he watches as she gets into a car that pulls up to the curb. She gives him one final smile and a wave and then gets in.

A night wind sweeps by, stirring little pieces of every day debris and blowing his hoodie into his face.

Peter stays, face tipped up to the wind, hoodie blown up against the back of his neck. He sighs, pulls it over his head. He glances up at the window for his place. Then shoulders slumped, he turns and heads back inside.

~

It turns out Alley Cat fell hard for May.

And that’s okay. Peter likes that May’s not alone and the cat is probably curled up with May, a warm ball for May to wake up to.

Which is why at 4.43 AM, Peter’s had enough of staring at the living room ceiling and the Cheers rerun on TV and is up and easing himself quietly out of the apartment in his training gear. He’d rather be swinging from building to building. He rubs at the insides of his wrists, pressing on the glands there to take away the phantom sensation of shooting a web. 

He settles for the beat of his feet on the pavement and the sounds of music pouring from the earphones tucked into his ears.

The sunrise is still two hours away but the people who work behind the scenes to keep the city going are already up and running, train drivers heading for the start of their shifts, bakery and cafe lights peeking out through shut doors and closed signs, street vendors setting up for the first rush at 6 AM. 

Peter keeps his hoodie up and keeps going, winding his way through his slice of New York until the air is burning in his lungs and sweat is dripping down his back and his neck, peppering his face, and his stomach is growling because he really should’ve eaten something before heading out. 

By the time he turns back onto his street a soft drizzle has started up, falling softly and soaking into the shoulders of his hoodie, mixing with the sweat on his face. His breath is rattling in his lungs and he can feel a pleasant burn in his thighs and calves. He knows he could probably keep going for another hour, running to the beat of the music. It’s frustrating though because he’d rather feel that burn throughout his entire body, the tension in his arms from bearing the entire weight of his body, the soreness down his back and upper thighs from making his body arch into his lunges to cut through the city midair.

That bone deep disappointment fades away though as he begins to slow down near his place and spots a familiar car parked out front.

The door opens and Happy steps out into the drizzle. He glares at Peter as he opens the door to the back seat.

‘In.’

Since Happy looks like he’s two seconds away from strangling him—or maybe Tony—Peter does as he’s told and heads straight for the door Happy is still holding open.

He slides in, immediately enveloped by the warmth. Only then does he realize that he’s really cold. 

Happy slams the door closed behind him and Peter turns to Tony.

Tony’s already turned towards him, one leg crossed over the other, scarf hanging loose either side of his neck and trademark glasses in place.

‘Hi,’ Tony says and shoves a hot cup of something into Peter’s cold hands.

‘Morning, Mr. Stark,’ Peter says, holding the cup gratefully, ‘thanks.’

‘So.’

Peter chances a look at Tony.

‘I just want to make it clear that I was totally right. And,’ Tony points a finger at Peter, ‘you had it coming.’

Peter frowns.

Tony takes a moment to pluck the lid off his own drink—coffee, Peter realizes, as the scent of it hits the air, just the smell immediately making him feel a shade warmer. Tony takes a drink from it.

‘Mr Stark—’

‘Ah. No. Stop. Don’t interrupt.’

‘But…you’re not talking?’ Peter says, talking around the food. When Tony gives him a pointed look, Peter stops and turns his attention to his own drink. When he takes a sip, coffee and cinnamon layered over one another flood his tongue.

‘What I’m trying to say is, I could’ve been nicer about it.’

Peter keeps his eyes fixed on his cup and after a moment takes another sip. He clears his throat and glances at Tony out of the corner of his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I called you a hypocrite.’

Tony shrugs and lets out a slow audible breath. ‘Yeah. Well. You weren’t entirely wrong. Or so I was told.’

‘So…I can go back to…?’ 

‘No, you’re still benched.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘Pete.’

Peter sighs.

‘I’m not gonna force you. As I’ve been told multiple times—too many for my liking lately—you’re not a kid.’

‘Wha—’

‘The point being, I know you’re not a kid. But I think you need to give yourself a break. You’re smart. The night you stayed over, you slept the whole night. You didn’t wake up once.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because you asked me to make sure you woke up if you had a nightmare. So I kept watch. And you didn’t a single one. Change of environment, stress triggers removed. You slept. So I propose you stay with me. Eat, drink—well, water, juice, no alcohol, Mr. Not-a-Kid but still underage. Maybe do some school work. You don’t go back till the fall. It might do you good.’ 

Peter watches as Tony stretches his legs out, tensing his muscles—Peter can actually see the muscles of his thighs tense through the material of his pants which is stretched tight over them. Tony sighs and relaxes back in his seat. He turns his head to look at Peter.

You’re not the only one that doesn’t sleep, Peter.

Peter looks.

It’s easy enough to spot. 

The glasses do a good job of hiding it but Peter can see it. The way the skin beneath Tony’s eyes is darker and more delicate. And he knows that if Tony were to take those glasses off, then he’d see the bloodshot whites. It’s not that Peter doesn’t know that Tony has always been good at hiding his own issues.

‘And it’s been a while since we’ve made some improvements to the suit,’ Tony’s saying, ‘now would be a good time to do a review. So. Come over. Enjoy the billionaire life for awhile, hmm? Recover in style etc. Oh. Here,’ he leans forward and brings out a big paper bag that has ‘Property of Peter Parker’ scrawled over it in thick green marker. ‘Peace offering,’ Tony says.

The paper bag scrunches when Peter takes it and sets it on his lap. He already knows what he’s going to see when he peers inside. He opens it up and folded neatly is the spider suit he’d left behind at Tony’s.

The thing is, Peter likes Tony. He loves spending time with him. That hasn’t changed in all the time he’s known Tony. It’s fun. And there’s always so much to learn. And maybe Peter doesn’t show it as often now as he used to before but Tony is still one of his favourite people, someone that Peter will always be in awe of. Even if the kid jokes got old forever ago.

Maybe this time, Peter can be the one doing the saving in their relationship for a change.

Even if Tony never realizes it.

‘What do you say? Sound good?’

Slowly, still staring down at his suit, Peter nods. ‘Um. Yeah. I can—I can do that.’

And then Tony’s in his space, hand firm and heavy where it grips Peter’s shoulder. ‘Great. Good talk.’ Then his eyes drop to the drink in Peter’s hand. ‘Food. New Turkish place down the road. Sound good?’ he doesn’t wait for Peter to agree or disagree. ‘Yeah, it does. You ever had Turkish tea? You’ll love it.’

Yeah. 

Tony Stark is a whirlwind.

Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever manage to keep from getting sucked down into it.

Then again, Peter’s never wanted to.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey, Mr Stark! Are you busy today?_

Tony pushes the goggles up on his head and stares at the message. And Tony can respond to that—It’s Peter, by the way.

Quickly followed by:

_And you’re probably busy. Sorry, you don’t have to reply to that. It was just a stupid idea._

Tony is in his workshop, grease all over his hands and tank top and he can feel a bit smudged over his cheek. His eyes dried up hours ago along with the coffee pot. It’s 5.13 AM and he hasn’t been to bed because regular hours are for mortals. 

And because his empty bed is his worst enemy.

Tony is feeling very mortal right now and his bed is starting to seem appealing. But here he is staring at the messages still lit up on the screen. He rubs at his eyes, the grittiness making him wince, and sighs.

Peter’s been back under his roof for a little over 48 hours. Peter and the cat that keeps wandering out of Peter’s bedroom and hiding herself all over the house. Tony had found her tucked into a corner of the workshop last night. He’d let her stay as his unofficial helper.

Three dots pop up on the screen.

Yeah, no.

‘What’s just a stupid idea?’ Tony asks as soon as Peter picks up. ‘Also, you realize we’re in the same house.’ 

‘Oh.’ Silence. ‘Um. I’m bored. And I can’t sleep anymore. And Alley Cat isn’t here.’

As if being summoned just by the mere mention of her, Tony spies two mismatched eyes watching him from the hood of his gleaming convertible. He hopes for Peter’s sake that there aren’t any claw marks on that paintwork.

‘Yeah. That’s because your little escape-artist-feline thinks the workshop is her own personal playground.’

Over the line, Tony hears Peter’s groan. ‘I’m sorry! I’m coming to get her.’

‘Right.’ Tony narrows his eyes at the cat in question when she stands up, turns around and lies back down with her butt to him.

‘But…so…about doing something?’

‘Kid—’

‘Please, Mr Stark?’

~

‘Seriously?’ Tony’s hooking his sunglasses on his t-shirt.

Peter’s got an eager smile on his face as they get out of the car. The wind attacks his hair almost instantly, but it barely phases Peter as he holds out one of the coffees they’d picked up on the way. At least the offer of coffee puts Tony in a better mood.

The smell of the sea water is in the air and the sky still has that early morning tinge, like it’s reluctant to let go of the deep blues of night time. It’s too early and the first light is turning into sunrise. The waves lap gently at the sand, the sound foreign only because it’s peaceful. The last time Tony had felt peaceful, he’d woken up with Pepper’s hair tickling his nose, her body warm and pliant next to him and he’d imagined for the first time what it would be like if they’d had a tiny little perfect baby between them that would grow up to outsmart Tony and give him sass.

There was the before and after. Peacefulness hasn’t existed for Tony in the after.

Tony shuts the car door and walks over to Peter as the car drives off, hand outstretched for the coffee. 

‘Riiiight,’ Tony takes in the empty stretch of windy beach as he starts drinking, ‘so what exactly are we doing here?’

‘If I have to take it easy, you have to take it easy too.’ 

‘Yeah? Says who?’

‘Karen. Well. Karen asked FRIDAY and FRIDAY told Karen. And…then Karen told me.’ Peter looks sheepish for about a second before he seems to really focus on Tony. He straightens and takes a step closer, peering into Tony’s face, his scent a warm and sweet thing that reminds Tony of sweet bread. He stares at Tony and a frown mars his expression. It makes the slight cleft on his chin more pronounced. ‘Um. Mr Stark. Have you been to sleep?’

‘Nope.’ He toasts Peter with his coffee. ‘Good call on the coffee. Hope you got a steady supply in there somewhere.’

‘Maybe we should go back, I didn’t realize—’  
‘You’re boring me, Parker. Let’s do this.’ Tony pauses and looks around them again. ‘Whatever this is.’

Peter grins at him, bright and happy, he slaps his hands together as if he’s won something. His brown eyes look soft and affectionate in the early morning light. It kind of eases something in Tony and for a moment Tony’s tempted to agree to anything the kid wants just to keep that expression on his face. 

It contrasts so much with the one Tony sees in his dreams.

‘FRIDAY and Karen, huh. You stalking me now?’ Traitors.

Peter shrugs. ‘Well, you started stalking me first.’

Tony scoffs. He takes a drink from the coffee, eyes on Peter’s face, finding himself enjoying the smug edge to the small smile on the kid’s face.

~

It's 7.30 am and the only other people on the beach are early morning joggers.

Tony follows Peter, wondering what the hell he's doing here. There's also the meeting at 10.30 AM that Pepper will kill him for if he doesn't turn up to. Peter's walking ahead though, looking out at the lapping waves, hood over his head and drink cuddled close to his body.

Thing is, this isn't something Tony does.

Just walk around for the sake of walking. The coffee is blistering hot and that's good because between the coffee and the whip of the wind, his eyelids don’t feel as heavy, his joints don't feel as stiff. It makes it easier to follow Peter as he walks.

'So,' he says after they've walked for while, side by side, but Peter hasn't filled the silence with his usual enthusiastic chatter, 'we doing the Eat, Pray, Love thing?'

Peter looks over his shoulder at him. 'Uh, doesn't she go to Bali in that movie?'

Tony shrugs. 'Been there, drank the Arak.'

Peter rolls his eyes. 'I don't think there are many places you haven't been Mr. Stark.'

'Well, Pete, I think once you've been on an alien ship taking you to an alien planet, any country that Julia Roberts visits kind of pales in comparison. I dunno. It could just be me.'

Peter goes quiet then.

When he turns off the boardwalk and into the sand, Tony glances from his shoes to the sand and almost follows, except Peter's not keeping to their walk down the beach and walks instead to the water’s edge.

Tony stays where he is, watching as Peter digs the toe of his sneakers into the sand while the wind tries its best to tug the hood back from his face. 

'Mr. Stark?' Peter's voice carries well over the sound of the surf. 'What do you see at night?'

Tony stares. 

He can feel it in the back of his mind, moving like a shadow, being called into the light. But he blocks it. They don't come during the day and he's not about to let them start now. There's no room in his head for that.

When he refocuses, dragging himself away from the sound of the waves plugging his ears and the darkness threatening to climb up and spot his vision, Tony finds Peter standing in front of him, brows creased in concern.

'Mr Stark?'

'I see everything, kid.' Tony finishes off the coffee, crumples up the cup and throws it into a nearby trashcan. 'Come on. Let's see what we can find to eat in this place.'

Peter doesn't say anything for a little while; just rushes to fall into step with him and Tony's surprisingly okay with that, with Peter's quiet presence at his side.  
Despite the unpleasant turn the conversation had taken, Tony feels a bolt of in the back of his mind loosen.

In the end, they end up doubling back and finishing off their morning out eating the best sandwiches in Queens according to Peter, in the back of the car as Peter outlines with his hands and sandwich and all, his newest development idea for his web fluid.

The kid isn't wrong about the sandwiches.

In the end, Tony makes it to the meeting. He zones out, sinking into the memory of the sea air, good food and Peter's laugh in his head.

He wakes up to Pepper's glare and disapproving looks from the rest of the board.

Tony's okay with that.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter doesn’t quite remember the dream or how it starts. But then he’s just in it.

The thing is, his nightmare isn’t about something hovering in a corner of his room, or about something chasing him. 

It’s the feeling of terror that crawls up his chest, cleaving through bone and clawing through his skin on its way to his throat. Peter’s eyes are wide open. And there’s a familiar face there, telling him it’s going to be okay, that he’s alright. It sounds so hopeless. There are arms around him that squeeze tight like they won’t let him go. In the end they can never catch him and the black covers everything.

His hand is always the first to go. His whole body hurts and Peter’s crying, his chest heaving and heaving and there’s nowhere for the air to go as he tries to suck in greedy mouthfuls of it as everything that hurts stops. It becomes weightless and the last thing Peter sees is Tony’s face disintegrating in front of him.

‘Please don’t let me disappear,’ he croaks. But it’s no use. Tony’s brown eyes are wide and glazed in shock and he just tries to hold Peter tighter but it just makes Peter turn to nothing so much faster.

‘Not again, not again, not again.’ Peter’s sobbing and his body is gone. His body is gone.

Peter. 

He lets his head tilt back. He can’t look at Tony’s face anymore so instead he stares up at the blazing orange sky. His tears burn a path down his face. That’s all that’s left of him. Just his face, he can’t feel anything else as the abyss opens up inside him. He’s ceasing to exist. He’s not coming back this time. He’s not coming back.

He gasps and he gasps and he can’t feel anything.

Peter!

No.

Peter!

No, no, no, no, no.

The orange blinks into black and in a whisper, Peter ceases to be.

‘Peter!’

Peter snaps up, his lungs burn. The wheezing sound drowns out anything else around him and he’s fighting, he’s fighting and trying to see but everything is dark. Is he gone? Is he still gone?

‘No, no—’

‘Hey—hey!’ The hands on his arms are bruising, so tight, so tight.

Peter hurries to grab at them, crossing his hands over his chest so he can clamp his hands on the strong wrists there, digging his nail into skin as he tries to see. ‘I can’t—’ God that’s his voice, that’s his own voice.

The hands on him let go and Peter panics, squeezes tighter. ‘No please, don’t let—’

He hears a curse even as he feels the wrist in his right hand give, hears something crunch. But then the hands cup his face and for the first time he becomes aware that his cheeks are wet, the slickness sealing those hands to his skin.

‘Peter,’ the voice sounds pained and shaky, but it carries with it an undertone of steel, ‘Peter. Look at me.’

He tries to do what he’s being asked but all he sees are spots dotting his sight.

And then something hard and warm is pressing against his forehead, warm air bathes his mouth and nose as the hands on his face slide to his neck. Peter never lets go.

‘You’re here. Pete, you hear me?’

Peter swallows, squeezing his eyes shut tight, he can feel his whole body moving with the air he’s trying to pull in, dragging it in through his nose, trying to gain control of it. He opens his mouth to let it out and his mouth brushes against something soft and that puff of warm air moves over his mouth again, down his chin.

‘Come on. Trust me, kid. I promise I have you this time.’

Tony. 

Peter manages to nod, the movement stiff. He’s clenching his jaw so tight it feels like it’s going to break. His heart feels like it’s thudding so hard it’ll beat a path out through his chest.

He opens his eyes. And he sees Tony. Tony whose head is pressed against his, eyes closed, nose brushing Peter’s, Tony who is still holding on to Peter, half cast in shadow and half in the soft glow that Peter is too disoriented to know where it’s even coming from.

‘Mr Stark,’ Peter croaks. The walls of his throat feel like they’re cracking and when Peter tries to wet his mouth and swallow there’s nothing.

Tony’s body seems to sag then, beard scraping down the length of Peter’s cheek before Tony tucks his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. ‘Jesus, kid.’ 

‘Sorry,’ Peter whispers. His heart jumps in his chest and doubles its pace when Tony tries to pull his hands away from Peter’s neck, Peter lets him.

Strong arms slide around his waist and crush him to Tony, holding him so tight Peter can’t breathe right again, only this time, the sensation feels like safety.

Peter doesn’t know how long they sit there like that, his awareness filtering back in. He can feel the softness of the mattress beneath them, the sheets bunched up between them. His t-shirt is soaked through and sticking to his back. Wherever Tony’s not touching him, Peter feels cold. So Peter wraps his arms around Tony too.

‘Thanks,’ Peter says and sniffs, words muffled into Tony’s shoulder.

‘You’re welcome.’

~

The warmth is new.

Peter’s eyelashes feel like they’ve been glued together but he forces them open.

His senses slowly filter back in, like a sketch filling with color. The weight at his waist, the warmth of someone else’s skin against his forehead, warm air rustling his hair. Someone else’s legs tangled with his. Then Peter registers the blanket that’s pulled up to his neck. The colors in front of him resolve themselves into something more familiar. A healed over scar peeks out from above a rumpled white tank top. Peter breathes in deeply. He smells warmth and the faintest of traces of Tony’s cologne.

Peter eases back slowly. His mouth and throat are dry and his eyes are sore. He tries to blink it away. 

The weight resting on his waist, shifts and tightens, draws him closer. Skin. A lot of skin.

It comes back to him then.

It had happened again. Tony had come to him.

Peter relaxes back into the bed, taking stock of the situation. His brain is still foggy from sleep, thoughts wrapped in mist. He knows he’s in Tony’s arms, knows that he feels warm and cocooned in the bed. There’s a lighter weight pressing into his ankle at the bottom of the bed and he thinks that’s probably Alley Cat who’s snuck back in the room. 

Why can’t sleep be like this all the time?

He rubs his face into Tony’s chest, fits himself to him. He’s surprised when his hand glides over the smooth skin. It pulls him out of the dreamy state. Peter opens his eyes a sliver and peers down the length of their bodies, eyes adjusting quickly to the dark under the blanket. It’s disorienting and surreal watching his hand close around Tony’s hip where his pyjamas have ridden low.

His hand is a shade lighter than Tony’s skin and Peter stares. He blinks down at it. His brain feels dead right now.

That’s not the only thing that leaves him stumped. There’s also the tenting in his boxers and the heavy weight of his balls between his legs.

Peter’s breath catches in his throat and he feels frozen in place. He breathes in and if anything that makes everything worse. Because he’s breathing in a warm, sleeping Tony. It makes him shiver, tightens his skin, his nipples.

He lets his breath out carefully and removes his hand from Tony.

When he’s put enough space between them, Peter folds his lips together, heart thudding in his chest. Tony’s arm is still weighing him down. Peter chances looking up.

Tony’s peering down at him from half mast eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Peter mumbles, and pulls back the rest of the way, ‘I’m gonna uh—I’m just gonna—’ he slides out from underneath Tony’s arm, flipping away from him as quickly as he can and scooting to the edge of the bed. ‘Uh, yeah. Yeah.’ He doesn’t know what’s coming out of his mouth, just makes a beeline for the bathroom, arms crossed in front of him, shoulders hunched.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Tony drag himself up the bed, hears the sound of the sheets slithering on to Tony’s lap but forces himself to keep his eye on the door of the en suite.

He closes it behind him and sinks back against it.

The light from the moon filters in through the bathroom window. Peter reaches over to the light switch. His hand is shaking. His legs feel weak and he stays there, back supported by the door and his head tipped up the ceiling.

There’s a light knock on the door. He feels it against his back.

‘Parker. You okay in there?’

‘Ye—yeah, I’m good Mr. Stark. Just um—just gonna shower.’

Silence. 

‘Um, thanks for—thanks,’ Peter says.

‘Alright. Try for a bit more shut eye when you get out.’

Peter nods, arms still wrapped tight around himself because he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening right now. ‘You too, Mr Stark.’

‘Right.’ Another pause. ‘See you later, kid.’

Peter waits until he hears the door to the bedroom shut. Then he thunks his head back against the door.

He doesn’t want to look at his treacherous dick and even try to think about what it means. 

Why him?

~

Peter shuffles into the kitchen and he finds Tony sitting there, nodding along to whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying. He has his phone pressed between his shoulder and face and he’s straightening the cuffs of his shirt. When Peter comes into the kitchen his attention zaps straight to Peter.

‘Send it by three. I’ll have an hour free then and I can take a look at it. How are the preparations going?’

Peter grabs himself a mug and moves over to one of the vacant stools. He can practically feel the bags under his eyes weighing the skin down. 

‘Yeah. Steve already spoke to them. They’ll be there. Anything else, contact Pepper. I’ll be unavailable until that time.’ And then he’s ending the call and reaches over in time to keep Peter from drinking the coffee he’s just poured himself.

Peter opens his mouth to complain when he notices the bandage peeking out from beneath Tony’s sleeve.

He stares.

That hadn’t been there yesterday.

‘It’s too early in the morning for the kicked puppy look. Put them away, kid. Yes, it happened last night. No, it’s not broken. Bruised and sore, dislocated but popped back in like a charm. More importantly though, no coffee for you.’ He takes a drink from Peter’s mug instead. ‘Sorry. But, good news. I ordered breakfast. And you can have some green tea. Or whatever tea it is that came with it. Luckily for us, Jules comes back from Miami tomorrow so we can start eating like humans. You’ll love her. Jules is a culinary Goddess and we worship the ground she walks on, understand?’

Peter’s sort of still stuck on green tea. ‘Um, yeah.’

‘Good. You’ve got access to the workshop. Knock yourself out.’

When he leaves, Peter’s still sitting there bemused.

Tony’s taken the mug and the entire coffee pot with him.

He’s still out of it enough that he doesn’t really notice that Tony doesn’t make eye contact with him once.

~

The thing is, Peter gets bored quickly.

Normally Karen helps him out in that regard but then he’s not usually in Tony Stark’s home when that happens.

It’s been a while since FRIDAY informed him that Tony had left for the Avengers facility. Peter had tried to go back to bed but it wouldn’t come.

‘FRIDAY?’ he asks. He’s on the bed, star-fished out and staring at the ceiling. 

‘Yes, Peter?’

‘What’s there to do around here?’ Peter sighs. He needs to do something or he’ll be bouncing off the walls in no time. 

‘Mr Stark has training facilities which include a gym, swimming pool and a battle simulation room.’

Peter sighs and drags himself up to sit. Maybe swimming might take the edge off or something. Might even tire him out and maybe he can sleep some more.

‘Um, would I have access to that?’

‘The battle simulation room—‘

‘No! Just the swimming pool? If that’s okay?’ Though he is curious about the battle simulation room. It’s not surprising but it’s odd that Tony never mentioned it before. Has it always been here? Usually when he comes over, Peter only gets as far as the workshop.

‘Of course, Peter. The swimming facilities are located on the lower ground floor. Special access is not required.’ 

‘Thanks, FRIDAY.’

He drags himself out of bed and when he gets to the pool he feels like a kid in a water park. 

The pool room is impressive. The lights gradually brighten as Peter pushes open the glass doors enclosing it, reflecting off the water. The swimming pool itself is huge and stretches about fifty yards, lines drawn at the bottom of the pool serve as lanes.

‘Would you like me to select a playlist?’

Peter jumps as FRIDAY’s voice echoes off of the walls. Playlists? ‘Uh, sure. Maybe something uh, calm?’ Because that’s where Peter has to take his brain right now. He needs to just clear his head because he’s already feeling like an idiot after this morning. Unzipping his hoodie, he walks over to set his towel by one of the benches lining the wall.

It’s not that Peter regrets what he said to Tony. Because he hadn’t been wrong and he can still feel the frustration of the situation eating at him. He does regret how he said it. Speaking to Tony that way doesn’t sit well with him. But then Tony had gone overboard too.

Resolving to put it out of his mind now and make the best of what had sounded a lot like being put under house arrest—which what? Who even does that?—Peter dips a hand into the pool as music filters into the room, something slow and unfamiliar but kind of soothing. The water is warm as it passes through his fingers and Peter slides right in, a small smile stealing over his face.

It’s kind of cool.

An hour later, he’s slumped over the side of the pool, head and arms resting on the side of it and just getting air into his lungs. His thighs and arms have a pleasant burn to them and he kicks his feet gently in the water. His mind is blissfully blank just then. After being in the water so long, the ground feels unsteady under his feet when he finally climbs back out of the pool, water sluicing off him and splashing the floor as he grabs up the towel and Peter pats himself dry. He’s hungry.

And maybe—maybe he could try napping a bit after.

It feels a bit weird, walking around Tony’s house like this. Sure, he’s been here many times. Normally just to geek out in the workshop or because he’s stopped by. There was that one time Tony had let Peter borrow the workshop for something he’d been working on for a science competition—which Peter won, by the way—and Peter had passed out in the early hours of the morning. That’s the only time Peter had stayed over.

And now he’s here. Under any other circumstances Peter would be getting his phone out and doing a video to send to Ned. And his fingers are kind of itching to do just that but. Peter likes to think he’s gotten over it. Because Peter suspects that no matter how old he gets, he’ll always fanboy over Tony Stark. It’s Tony Stark.

Ugh, life just—sucks so much right now.

Peter hooks the towel over his neck and heads back over to the kitchen muttering to himself as he goes. He doesn’t know what time it is, mid afternoon maybe.

He feels weird walking around Tony’s house like this but he kind of just wants to eat something and then head back. Except when he gets to the kitchen, it's not empty.

Pepper Potts turns around at the sound of footsteps and when her eyes land on Peter, her eyebrows fly up. ‘Peter.’

Awkward. Why does this feel awkward? ‘Hi, Miss Potts,’ he says, gives her a weak smile and a wave. ‘How are you?’

Her eyes track down his body and then flick back up to his face, sharper. ‘Sorry, Peter. FRIDAY said Tony’s not home right now so you surprised me.’

Peter sighs and nods, distracted from the weirdness of the situation by the reminder of why exactly Peter’s here when Tony isn’t. ‘Yeah,’ he says, sighing. ‘I mean…’ he thinks back to that morning and feels his cheeks flame, ‘I’m sleeping. It’s better.’

‘That’s really good, Peter. What about Tony?’

Peter hadn’t even realized his shoulders had started tensing up until he relaxes. He folds his arms, feeling a bit self conscious. He should’ve taken a shirt with him to the pool. Then he wouldn’t have to be standing here with one of the most powerful women he knows, talking to her while half naked. 

‘Um, I don’t think it’s been as useful for him. Me being here, I mean,’ his mouth is suddenly dry, ‘after we… I mean we talked. And I’m trying to help too.’ He looks up at her then and swallows, reminds himself he’s got nothing to feel embarrassed about or to worry about. Because nothing happened. ‘I think he did manage to sleep properly last night.’ And he had. Because as awkward as it had been when he’d woken up in Tony’s arms, he realizes that’s what had happened. While he’d been trying to keep Peter’s nightmares at bay, Tony had slept.

‘That’s…good,’ Pepper says, voice soft. She steps up to the island, resting her hands there, not paying attention to the mess of tools still strewn across it from earlier that morning. ‘That’s really good.’ Pepper nods and straightens up again, and Peter can see her sliding back into business mode. ‘Have you seen Tony? I’ve been trying to reach him since this morning about the unveiling.’

Peter blinks at her. ‘Oh, is that soon?’

She sighs. ‘You’re all the same aren’t you? I feel like I’m going to have to go chasing each and every one of you individually just to make sure you’re there.’

‘In my defense, I’ve been kind of busy with college and uh, saving people and not sleeping?’ he winces. ‘Sorry Miss Potts. I promise I’ll be there.’

The look of warning she gives him tells him he doesn’t really have a choice. ‘Yes, you will be.’

Peter clears his throat. ‘I think Mr Stark is still at the facility, he kind left early this morning after breakfast.’

Something shifts in Pepper’s expression. Her eyes narrow on Peter as if something is occurring to her that hadn’t before.

Peter can’t really read Pepper right then but he feels discomfort crawling back over his skin and he tightens the fold of his arms across his chest. He really should’ve taken a shirt with him to the pool.

‘Pepper?’

Both Peter and Pepper turn to find Tony standing in the doorway. Tony looks at Peter and does a double take. But before Peter can open his mouth and explain—why does he feel like he has to explain this?—Pepper speaks.

‘I’ve been trying to reach you since this morning, Tony.’

Tony’s still looking at Peter, a peculiar expression on his face as his eyes track down to Peter’s neck and chest which is half hidden by the towel.

Peter shifts his feet and rubs at his arms. He can feel heat start to climb up his neck. ‘I uh—I used your pool. FRIDAY said it was okay.’

For some reason that makes Tony chuckle, which Peter is glad for because it makes Tony look away and it feels less like he’s in the spotlight. ‘It’s fine, kid.’

Pepper’s heels are loud as she makes her way around. ‘Peter, I need to borrow Tony for a sec, is that okay?’

‘Yeah, of course. I’ll just uh, I’m gonna make something to eat,’ he looks at Tony and is surprised to see him still watching him, that same expression on his face, ‘maybe try to rest again after that.’

‘I approve of this plan.’ Tony steps back to let Pepper pass. ‘I like this. Healthy choices, good, great.’

Peter nods. ‘Okay,’ he manages an awkward smile for Pepper when she smiles at him.

When he’s finally alone in the kitchen, it’s like someone’s cut off his strings and he slumps against the counter, groaning as he hits his head on the cupboard a couple of times.

So awkward.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony hears Pepper’s sigh from behind him. He closes the door to the office.

‘You could’ve just called me back. Or better yet, _answered your phone_. It would’ve saved me the trip over here.’ 

Tony stares blankly for a second. He hears the sound of Pepper opening up her bag, a stack of papers—no doubt some form of paperwork torture in retaliation for him dodging her—hit his desk. Still, it’s taking him longer than usual to get with the program and Tony frowns at the door.

‘ _Tony_.’

He spins around, clasping his hands behind him. Pepper’s glaring at him, hand on hip. All that’s missing is the impatient tapping foot. If looks could kill—

Well, if looks could kill Tony probably wouldn’t have survived for as long as he has but that’s a different story.

‘Sorry, what was that? I’m a bit distracted lately.’

At that, she softens, hand dropping back to her side. ‘I understand that. I know this isn’t exactly an easy time for you. For all of you—’

‘So.’ Yeah he’s not really feeling up to talking about his feelings. Least of all with Pepper. So he pretends he doesn’t notice the way her back stiffens, or the way her lips fold together, as if biting back her frustration. He wanders over to the desk and peers down at what really is a stack of papers, he looks back at her. ‘Is this punishment? You know,’ he makes a whirling motion with his hand, ‘for not getting back to you in a timely fashion? Death by pen? Death by signature? Death by drilling boring words into my brain? I have several wildly expensive and exotic fruit baskets at my beck and call as apologies.’

She gives him an unimpressed look. ‘You need to stop sending those to people. Usually when you piss someone off, Tony, they’re not really in the mood for exotic fruit apologies.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, I think you haven’t tried my upgraded fruit basket apologies—’

‘Tony.’ Pepper sighs. ‘Your speech deadline for the unveiling ceremony was over a month ago—’

‘I’ve been busy,’ Tony says, leafing through the papers with no real curiosity, ‘people to see, sciencing to do, genetically altered teenagers to check in on.’ He drops the papers back, shrugs and pushes his hands back into his pockets. ‘What can I say? Billionaire life is hard.’

For a moment Pepper looks him right in the eye. She draws in a breath like she’s about to say something. Stops. She looks away, shaking her head and rests a hand on the desk.

‘How’s Peter doing?’

He crosses his arms over his chest and sits on the corner of the desk. ‘Getting a bit fond of our resident spider-boy? Heard you went to speak to his aunt.’

Pepper rolls her eyes. ‘Yes. I’m generally the one who steps in to sort things out when people are being idiots. In this case, you were both being idiots. I stepped in.’ She narrows her eyes on him. ‘Peter said you slept last night.’

That brings back something Tony’s been really good at not thinking about all day.

Sleep rumpled hair, reddened cheeks and hazy eyes. The warmth of someone else’s body, solid yet pliant pressed to his chest. The subtle smell of sweat and a calloused hand touching him, casual, familiar, affectionate. 

Tony clears his throat, eyes jumping back up to Pepper when he realizes he’s been silent too long. He rocks back on his feet. ‘What was that?’

‘Peter. Parker. He said you managed to get some sleep last night.’

‘Keeping tabs on me?’

‘Just… I worry,’ she says. She fixes her attention on her bag, snapping it back closed and slinging it over her shoulder. ‘Make sure you have your speech ready by the end of the week, the White House admin team are waiting. And I need you to look through these, there are a couple of things I need you to sign off on. Please, try to get this done by tomorrow.’ She heads for the door. ‘And pick up your phone. I want to see that speech before you send it off, Tony.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘are you back to being my PA oooor…?’

Pepper opens the door. ‘You couldn’t afford me. Speech, Tony.’ 

Tony stares at the closed door for a while. Then he settles on the edge of the desk, speech forgotten and mind back to where it’s been for most of the day.

Peter Parker.

The funny thing is, what’s throwing him isn’t even Peter Parker and the morning boner or Peter Parker and the shirtless chest or Peter Parker doing all of this in Tony’s home. In Tony’s kitchen. In Tony’s bed. So it’s not Tony’s actual bed but it’s a bed in Tony’s house and so, therefore still Tony’s. Kinda.

But that’s not the point.

No. What bothers Tony is that easy comfort of lying next to Peter in bed, of Peter’s familiar smell, so out of place right under Tony’s nose and of the way that Tony really would’ve been happy to lie there for another hour, all easy warmth and oddly enough calm, with Peter tucked against him.

It’s still short-circuiting Tony’s brain a bit.

It’s not that Tony can’t sleep. Tony can. Tony dreams. Ever since he was taken captive they’ve been there. But he’d gone to bed. He’d had Pepper at his side and he’d known, he’d been able to tell himself that they were only dreams then.

Then Sokovia happened.

And for all his genius, for all that Tony can take anything and break it down to its smallest components and put it back together bigger and better, he can’t tell himself when he dreams, that it isn’t real.

Because so much of what he’s dreamed of has come true.

He doesn’t talk about it and god knows the shrink SHIELD tried to force on him had given up after the third session in a row of Tony feeding him sarcasm and bull. He’d talked. He just hadn’t said anything important. Tony has had enough people mess with his head, so he’ll pass. Even if they are paid professionals.

Maybe now he prefers to spend his time in his workshop, letting his mind turn over puzzles and creating. It’s easier that way, when his thoughts are speeding so fast his emotions can’t catch up long enough for him to feel anything. And that’s Tony’s element, that’s where he feels in control. Jerking awake at the start of every dream gets old after a while.

So, yeah. Tony doesn’t really go to bed. And when he does, he doesn’t sleep, whether by himself or with someone else.

Except with Peter Parker it seems.

He rubs a hand over his mouth and drops it back to his side.

Tony considers calling Bruce. Despite what Bruce says, he does pretty well as Tony’s unofficial, unqualified therapist.

In the end he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t sign the papers either. 

The door snicks quietly behind him as he leaves the room.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter starts using the workshop to work on a new web shooter prototype, something that’ll help shape the fluid if he needs it to, to produce, say a shield if he needs it. Because Peter has had people shoot at him before, many times, and he doesn’t want May to receive a call one day about Peter being on a slab in a morgue because he was unlucky. Despite what people think, Peter knows he’s not indestructible. He tries to keep himself as safe as possible. But the more defense mechanisms he has at his disposal, the better off he’ll be in the long run.

But in order for him to be able to use it for something like that, Peter has to try and produce a higher volume with each shot of the web. 

With the anniversary of the Infinity War approaching, Tony’s spending more and more time out of his place, and an issue with Stark Industries means he’s away for a couple of days in Germany. It’s odd, being in the house without Tony. It’s kind of crazy how in such a short space of time Peter has gotten used to spending his evenings with Tony, working away or eating junk food while they try and work through something that’s not quite right.

‘So, you’re just at his house?’ 

Ned’s voice echoes in the room, his face taking up the entire screen.

Peter lowers his hand back to his side and unlocks the prototype to examine the skin beneath, hissing at how raw it feels. ‘Yeah. It’s actually,’ he shrugs, ‘okay. Weird, but cool, you know?’

‘Is May okay with it?’

Peter sighs. ‘She’s glad I’m sleeping again. I’m going over later, we’re gonna grab some Chinese. She says she’s got some exciting work gossip she wants to share with me.’ He smiles. He loves May.

‘Cool. What about Mr Stark? When’s he back?’

‘Uh, tomorrow I think?’ Peter reaches for the aloe gel he’s been keeping around and starts to rub it over the sensitive glands on his wrist. ‘What about the Summer Program? How’s it going?’

That sends Ned into hyperdrive and they spend the next few hours just catching up before Peter hangs up to go and get ready to meet May. He’s got her invitation to the party. It occurs to Peter when he’s on his way back to Queens that no one’s really mentioned if there’s a dress code or something. He hopes not because he hasn’t bought something formal in years. Probably not since prom in High School and that had been. Well. Either way, it’s not a contender. Nothing in Peter’s wardrobe is.

As he walks into his bedroom he pauses, eyes going to the unmade bed that he’d neglected to make that morning.

Peter hasn’t had nightmares since Tony left. But that’s because he’s been alternating between being in the workshop and napping downstairs on the sofa. The easy rhythm he’d been finding with sleep again vanished after that disaster.

He wonders if maybe he’d sleep again if Tony was next to him.

But then before he can think too much about it, imagine it too much, he heads into the bathroom for a shower, looking forward to being out of this house for a while.

Because those thoughts are only for when he’s dreaming.

~

‘Sooo, what’s it like at the Stark castle?’

The restaurant is packed tonight. It’s a Friday night and the weather is nice and crisp and May is smiling and relaxed, wielding the chopsticks with the ease of someone who eats here way too often. Peter’s not complaining though as the smell of the roast meat has his mouth watering and he’s wolfing food down like they’re about to run out. Out here the sound of traffic outside and people talking out on the street pieces together the more familiar fabric of Peter’s day to day life.

Stark Castle, as May puts it, is made up of rock & roll, revving engines, FRIDAY’s voice and the coffee machine. 

‘It’s cool,’ he says, ‘I’ve been working on something in his workshop to help me—uh. You know. With that thing. That I do.’

At that, May’s smile tightens. Because she’s never been okay with it. And she probably never will be. But she’s May and she loves Peter and if there’s anyone who wants to support him it’s her. ‘As long as it’s an improvement? Anything that makes you safer out there is a relief for me.’

Peter nods. ‘I know. And it is!’ He leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘It’s actually to help me use the web fluid to form a shield.’

May’s eyes widen. ‘What? You can _do_ that?’

Spurred by the way she looks just as excited as he feels, Peter nods even more enthusiastically and starts describing what he’s working on. May loses some of her enthusiasm when Peter shows her his wrists but he assures her that he’s taking care of them and it’s just from overuse.

‘I thought Mr Stark had already spoken to you about overworking yourself.’

‘May, I’m being safe, I promise. And I’m taking real breaks. It’s just really sore? But I promise I’m being careful. Near genius intellect, remember?’ he says, referring to what the recruiters from MIT had said about him.

Wrong thing to say because May scowls at him and goes back to her food. ‘What I remember is you not _going_ to MIT.’

Peter sighs. ‘Because I’d rather be here. With you. I _like_ it here. And I’m doing really well here.’

May shrugs a shoulder. ‘Yeah, I guess. Now finish eating. Just because you brought me an invitation to a fancy shindig filled with superheroes doesn’t mean you get out of Funday Olday Friday with me.’

Peter groans. ‘How many, today?’

May pops a piece of pork and smiles around the bite. ‘Two back to back today.’

‘Fine.’

May grins. ‘You love me.’

Peter grins back. ‘You love me too.’

~

It’s late when Peter gets back, eyes and ears still hurting from the back to back musicals he had to sit through.

It’d been nice though and he has a small smile on his face as he walks back into Stark Castle. The name makes him laugh. But then he hears the sounds of someone moving around in the house, the sound coming from deep within the house, the cadence of the walk familiar.

Tony’s back. 

The flutter in his chest is weird and Peter frowns, rubbing at it as if that will get it to go away. 

Peter follows the sound to what Tony should just start calling his bedroom. Peter knows for a fact by now that that’s where Tony spends most of his life. 

It still rankles that he watches Tony do this day after day and he’s not allowed to comment on it. But he’s let go of that now, tries not to let it bother him.

When he gets down there, Tony has a hand planted on the worktable, familiar Hulk mug in hand. It’s the station Peter has been working at since he left and his eyes are locked on the papers full of notes that have been spread across the surface.

Peter tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans and clears his throat. ‘You’re back early.’

Tony’s eyes flick up and focus on him there. ‘How’s May?’ he asks.

Peter smiles. ‘She’s good,’ he scuffs the toe of his shoe on the floor, ‘she says I’m looking better, so. That made her happy.’

Tony hums around the mug as he takes another drink. ‘That’s because you are. How were the nights while I was gone?’ 

He picks up the web shooter that Peter’s been tinkering with.

‘Okay. I didn’t actually get much sleep,’ he shrugs, ‘managed to nap a couple of times. I was just…didn’t want to dive back in right away you know? In case it happened again.’ He looks away. ‘Not as bad during the day though so I, um, just napped then.’

‘And spent your nights here, by the looks of it,’ he says, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. ‘Doesn’t look bad. Is it working?’

‘Yeah!’ Excitement propels him further into the room and he’s shrugging off his hoodie, already so comfortable in his routine and so familiar with the place he doesn’t think twice. ‘I mean, okay, it’s not perfect? There’s a few more details to work out, but it’s all about how the web shooters are able to project a forcefield that will shape the web fluid. If I can just get it to do that, then all I have to do is gain more control of the fluid itself.’

‘Can you show me how far you got?’

‘Ah,’ Peter scratches at the back of his neck, apologetic, ‘actually, I can’t right now. Don’t be mad okay?’

Tony’s eyes narrow on him.

‘It’s just, I got a bit too excited about the idea and kind of overdid it a bit? So um. I’m just. You know. Sore.’

‘How bad is it?’ Tony asks. ‘Come here. Show me. Does medical need to take a look at it?’

Peter glances down, holding both arms wrists side up and examines the skin. It’s reddened and where normally it would be smooth without so much as a hint of where the glands are, now they each sport a large puffy looking rise that Peter’s been careful not to touch too much to avoid aggravating it. It’s happened before and he knows that he just needs to take it easy for a couple of days and keep putting the aloe on it. It always goes down eventually.

Despite the usual coolness of the workshop, Tony has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his elbows. The crew top he’s wearing has buttons down to mid chest and he’s left them undone all the way, showing skin and the edges of a white undershirt.

‘Peter.’

‘What?’

Tony gives him a look. ‘Your wrists. Are you coming over here or…?’

‘Y-yeah. Sorry.’ He almost trips over his own feet but makes it without incident. Tony’s shaking his head, half a smile stealing over his face. ‘Yeah. Smooth right there young padawan. Let’s see ‘em.’

Peter turns his wrists over.

‘May coming to the party?’

‘Yeah! She was super excited! Think she’s going to buy a dress just for it.’

‘What about you?’ Tony asks. 

Before Peter can ask what he means, Tony gets a good look at his wrists and gives a low whistle. ‘Good thing you’re out of commission right now because you’re not gonna be using these any time soon. You overdid it.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Peter can’t help flexing his wrists. Tony’s hands are warm andrough where they hold Peter’s wrists still.

‘Sure we shouldn’t get a medic to look at these?’ Tony lifts Peter’s hands higher. He adjusts his grip on Peter’s left wrist and brushes his thumb over the soft swell there, the roughness of his thumb scratching lightly. The probing touch has Peter sucking in a breath and letting it out in a shudder, unable to keep the involuntary flinch.

Tony’s head snaps up. ‘Doesn’t hurt huh?’

‘That wasn’t—that didn’t hurt!’ The words just blurt out of his mouth, bumbling and earnest and Peter wants to swallow them back because the silence that follows is—

Peter doesn’t know what it is.

He only knows that Tony’s grip has tightened on his wrists and he’s frozen in place, eyes intense on Peter’s face.

‘I mean,’ Peter tugs on wrist, ‘it’s just uh. It just feels sensitive. That’s all.’

‘Right.’ Tony straightens and then lets go. ‘My bad.’

Peter swallows and looks away, wrapping his own hand around his wrist, pressing the heel of his hand against it because he can still feel Tony’s touch on the skin there like a phantom whisper. 

‘It’s fine. I’ll just put some more aloe on it.’

Tony’s eyes are narrowed on his face. ‘Yeah, you do that.’


	9. Chapter 9

Tony pushes the glasses up his face and groans, straightening, flexing his back and shoulders as he rubs his fingers roughly over his nose and brow. The headache is lodged there, right between the eyes and he grimaces.

The next song comes on and the beginning thrums of Guns n Roses’ Cry fills the room.

Tony’s left most of the lights off in the workshop but the spotlight on his workstation is bright enough that it’s reflected off the cars, the stools and tools scattered around. He readjusts the frames on his face and squints at the holo schematics hovering in front of him detailing the components of the web shooters he’s been watching Peter messing around with for the better part of the week. It takes him a moment but he spots it—the component providing the necessary magnetic and electric field and how it’s worked into the design. He flicks it away and expands the schematic so he can peer more closely at the inner workings.

His eyes are dry and he’s blinking every so often as he works. He doesn’t realize anyone else has come in until the song comes to an end and the stool next to him is being dragged out and from the corner of his eye he sees Peter sliding onto the it, arms crossed over his chest.

Alley Cat has followed Peter inside and tucks herself underneath the stool.

It’s chillier down in the workshop so Tony does a double take when he sees Peter’s thin t-shirt and the shorts riding up higher on his thighs.

‘Hey, Mr. Stark,’ Peter says. The skin beneath his eyes is darker but Tony’s not too worried. Since staying with him kid’s been sleeping like a dream most nights. Either that or he’s just done a really good job of hiding it. He leans forward and sets his arms on the worktop, eyeing up the schematic. ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

Tony snorts. ‘Don’t worry about it, I got over two decades on you, kid.’

Peter glares at him. ‘Seriously? I thought we’d talked about you calling me that.’

‘Oh yeah? Sorry, must be the age thing. Memory isn’t what it used to be,’ Tony mutters, dragging away yet another unnecessary part. ‘For the record your design is good. Just in practice,’ Tony shrugs, ‘needs some tweaking. I like this though. This is good.’

At that Peter ducks his head. Tony watches his throat work, sees the darkening of Peter’s cheeks. Watches Peter lick his lips and then risk a glance Tony’s way. ‘That’s uh—thanks, Mr. Stark.’ Tony turns back to the work in front of him. ‘Little late for you. Thought you were supposed to be keeping to a routine for now.’

Peter shrugs. ‘Wasn’t a good night tonight. What about you?’

‘All my nights aren’t good nights.’

‘I mean, technically that’s not true?’

‘Oh yeah, how’s that?’

Peter reaches over, dragging over the schematic with a practiced pinch. He shrugs a shoulder, spots something and frowns, leaning forward much like Tony had been doing a few minutes earlier. ‘You got to sleep that time you helped me.’

Tony gives him a long look.

See Tony is hardwired to respond in certain ways to certain things, and with so little sleep behind him, he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s giving Peter a long look and the words just come out of his mouth. ‘Is that an invitation, Parker?’

Peter’s head snaps round, big brown eyes staring at him and mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. ‘N-n-no,’ Peter shakes his head, hands up and almost falling off his chair in his hurry to negate what Tony’s said.

Tony arches an eyebrow, what he’s said is catching up to him but it’s already out there and besides, watching the blush climb up Peter’s throat and spread up over his jawline is funny. 

It looks good on him and for a brief second Tony thinks about that blush and how far it goes. Gets a quick snapshot of what that might even look like. It splinters through him leaving him feeling like he’s been body slammed by the Hulk.

‘That’s not—that’s not,’ Peter’s still floundering and looking like he’s about to collapse from sheer embarrassment.

Tony pulls himself together and forces a smirk on to his face. ‘Relax kid, you’re safe from the big bad billionaire,’ he adds an eyeroll for good measure and twists back to face the work in front of them. Of course right now he can’t make heads or tails of it because Tony’s not sure that what he just said is true. Of course it’s true—he’s not gonna take advantage of Peter for chrissakes, but—all of a sudden it’s kind of hard to keep himself from imagining what taking advantage of Peter would look like.

Would it even be taking advantage? Kid’s been eighteen long enough—

Well, shit.

Tony really didn’t see this coming.

‘—ark? Mr. Stark?’

‘What’s that?’

‘I was saying maybe we shouldn’t be doing this?’

Tony blinks. What? Has he missed something? Because unless the kid’s psychic he’s not sure what Peter’s talking about. Okay, so now he’s noticed how those shorts? Yeah. They’re riding a little high there and they are tighter than should be legal when Peter settles back on the chair, stretched taut over muscular, pale, thighs. Great. This is great. This is fantastic.

The kid is fucking with what’s left of Tony’s rational mind.

‘I don’t follow,’ Tony says.’

‘I mean,’ Peter glances around them, ‘they say if you have trouble sleeping then you should try to wind down. Work is kind of the opposite of that right? It’s just gonna stimulate things, uh, more. Right?’

Right. Of course that’s what he means. Tony feels tired all of a sudden. Like actually feels it. ‘Yeah? You got something in mind, I’m all ears.’

‘Um. A walk? Maybe?’

‘A walk.’ Right. Sure. Why the hell not. Tony stands. ‘FRIDAY lights out. Mr. Parker feels like _walking_.’

‘Yes, Mr. Stark. Wishing you and Mr. Parker a pleasant walk.’

Peter’s gets to his feet, jostling the stool and making a disgruntled Alley Cat come out from underneath. He looks surprised. ‘We’re actually going? Like, right now?’

‘Sure. Let’s go.’ Except Tony’s heading for the car already.

‘Uh, Mr. Stark, what about clothes?’

‘Yeah. This walk is gonna be a little different.’

~

So it’s not a walk, it’s a night drive.

Same difference.

Tony can’t really explain why they end up at the beach Peter had taken him to the first time.

But that’s where they end up. On the hood of his baby, ice cream cups in hand.

It’s different at night.

‘Mr. Stark?’ Peter says. He’s sitting on the hood of Tony’s car, legs folded, perfectly balanced. He looks like he’s not even feeling the wind rushing over them both. He wonders how high the kid’s temperature runs. Pushes that thought aside too because his mind instantly supplies some answers that belong on Tony’s special video playlists and he really wants to be able to sleep at night. Well. Hah.

‘Hmm?’ Tony scoops a spoon of peanut butter and chocolate into his mouth and closes his eyes on the deliciousness of it. Damn. Orgasm on a damn spoon. ‘What’s that?’

‘How come you came here?’ Peter asks. 

‘Huh? Oh.’ Tony looks out at the waves that look black in the night, only the foam standing out bright and white. The sky is clouded and the city lights don’t reach far enough to touch the water at this time of night. He hadn’t really given it much thought when he’d brought them here. But now that he thinks about it, he feels soothed. Like the sounds of the waves are dragging away all the bad thoughts hiding in the back of his mind. The openness of it makes him feel small. 

He’s felt small before. When he’d found himself on a spaceship bound, no idea where it’d land, surrounded by nothing but stars. He’d felt so, so, small then. And powerless. Tony had never felt so powerless in his life.

Without thinking about it, he presses his hand to his chest, thumb tracing the line of the scar there. The one that had almost succeeded in taking his life. The one that had left him thinking he’d die on an alien planet, with the feeling of Peter seeping through his fingers the last thing he’d ever know.

No.

This openness is different. This openness leaves him feeling grounded. 

‘It’s a good spot.’ He looks at Peter. ‘You did good, kid.’

Peter frowns for a split second and Tony waits for the reprimand. It doesn’t come. Peter sighs and shakes his head, then spoons some more ice cream into his mouth. A smile plays the edges of his mouth, like he’s won something he wasn’t expecting. ‘You did good with the ice cream, too,’ Peter says. ‘This is awesome,’ he says around a mouthful. He’d gotten some coconut/lime thing. Tony hadn’t been paying attention much. Peter’s shovelling that thing like it’s ice cream made by the gods. 

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Hey, Mr. Stark?’ Peter scrapes at the bottom of the cup, the tiny pink plastic spoon comes up dripping with the now-melting ice cream. ‘Um. Thanks.’

‘For what?’

Peter looks over at him. ‘For coming to get me. For helping. You know? Sometimes all of this—’ Peter looks down at the cup and scrounges for the last bits, ‘it’s still hard for me to process all of it and handle things right.’

Tony watches him, quiet.  
When Peter looks up at him, his eyes are serious, his mouth set. A touch of ice cream clings to the corner of his mouth. He looks so young. The wind rustles his hair, tousling it and leaving it a mess.

He looks young and beautiful and a little broken.

‘You got a little right…’ Tony’s hand is halfway to Peter’s mouth before he realizes what he’s doing.

Peter’s eyes widen and he straightens, mouth going slack as his eyes drop to Tony’s hand. 

The crash of the waves is hypnotizing in that moment. Tony’s thumb itches to wipe the small smidge of ice cream off, to run his thumb and find out what Peter’s mouth feels like under his fingers. 

Yeah. He can’t do that. Fuck. He can’t do that.

He draws back but Peter’s hand snaps out, too quick. It wraps gently around Tony’s still healing wrist. Peter doesn’t look at him, eyes fixed on an invisible spot between them. 

Peter wets his lips and when he speaks his voice comes out with a husk to it Tony hasn’t heard before. ‘I don’t mind…’ he says.

The words go through Tony. ‘Look at me, kid.’

It takes a moment. But then Peter does as he’s told. Those warm brown eyes lock at Tony’s.

Peter’s mouth gives under the press of Tony’s thumb and Peter’s lips part on a hitched breath, making Tony’s thumb slide along. He brushes in over his inner lip, slipping on the slickness of the warm soft flesh there.

Tony’s throat is dry and his heart is thudding against his chest but he doesn’t pull away because the feel of Peter, malleable and willing is intoxicating. It fills him, whiting out his thoughts and lacing arousal through his veins. Because he’s suddenly thinking about what else Peter would open for. He looks at the boy—no. He’s not. He’s not a boy. He’s not a kid. Peter’s all grown up.

Fuck.

He traces the smear of ice cream into Peter’s mouth, thumb sliding in, brushing over Peter’s teeth until he feels Peter’s tongue beneath.

Peter’s eyes fall closed and the sound that escapes him has a wounded quality to it, eyebrows dipping and cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls the digit further into his mouth.

Tony swears under his breath and jerks back, turning around and rubbing his hands over his face. 

Jesus.

‘Mr. Stark—’

‘Yeah, I’d say that’s enough walking for one night, don’t you think? How about we head back and put all this fresh air to good use.’

Separately.

Not in the same room.

Tony throws the rest of his ice cream in the trash, not sparing Peter a glance as he goes.

He has to adjust himself before he gets in the car.

Peter’s silent behind him and doesn’t say anything else as they get back in the car and stares out the window, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

They’re both silent the rest of the way home.


	10. Chapter 10

‘How does it feel?’

Peter turns to find Tony standing at the entrance to the workshop.

Tony’s panting as he takes a drink from the water bottle in his hand. He’s got the hoodie over his head. Sweat dampens the dark navy t-shirt he’s wearing down his chest in a V and beads of sweat pepper his face. Peter’s not sure if he’s come back from a run or if he’s been at the ring getting some training in. Peter hadn’t seen him since the previous night, each of them going their separate ways after they’d returned from Tony’s version of a “walk”.

The thing is, Peter can’t look at the guy that’s been mentoring him since he was fifteen without thinking about how he’d sucked his thumb into his mouth and how Peter would’ve gladly sucked more than just that.

It’s not that Peter has been oblivious to his attraction to Tony all this time. He knows his gaze has always lingered too long on Tony, that he’s always looked too impressed with whatever Tony accomplishes, always defended Tony that bit too hard when people decide to be dicks about him—okay, so sometimes they have a point? But Peter figures if people have something to say, then they should say it to that person’s face, you know? Jerks.

‘Um,’ Peter flexes his wrists, not realizing he’s frowning as he tests out the flexibility of his newly adapted web shooters. He’d spent all night working on it. ‘It’s okay? I think I might need to just make it more giving? It’s too stiff.’ Of course, the word stiff seems to echo in the silence. FRIDAY had offered to put some music on for him, but Peter likes silence now and again.

The sanctuary that Tony Stark’s home had initially provided against sleeplessness has disappeared. Although Peter isn’t blaming that on night terrors. 

‘You’ve done a good job with it. Is the force field activating like it should?’ Tony walks further into the room, tilting his head back and squirting more water into his mouth.

Peter can feel the web shooter’s frame pressing awkwardly into the gland on his right wrist and makes a mental note to adjust the tightness of the band. ‘It works but something’s still not right, it’s creating the force field but it’s not sustaining it? So I need to figure out what’s going wrong.’ Peter makes himself look at Tony, fixes his eyes to Tony’s face and doesn’t let it stray. ‘But if I can get it to stay up just a few seconds longer then I can get it tomould the web—I just need it to stretch a bit more, make it so that when the web fluid hits the forcefield it’s taut enough to not cave around the objects.’

Tony’s mouth curls into a smug smile, almost as if he’s the one who’s worked it all out. ‘Sounds good. Alright!’ he finishes chugging down the rest of his water, slaps a hand on Peter’s shoulder and turns to leave again. ‘Gonna call Pepper before she comes back down here to bust my ass. She’s trying to get a hold of Thor for the reveal and not having any luck,’ then in a mutter, ‘plus those damn papers. Oh. And that cat of yours? Getting a little too comfortable in my bed. Talk to your animal, Parker. Get it a ball of yarn or something. You owe me a new set of silk sheets. In Ocean Blue.’

‘Uh. Mr. Stark I can’t really afford silk sheets? In any color.’

Tony just waves a hand over his head and keeps walking. ‘Don’t over do it, Parker.’

~

Peter’s wrists throb.

Of course, he overdid it.

He grimaces, holding them under the rush of the cold tap.

Alley Cat watches him from the closed toilet seat, face buried half underneath her tail.

‘You have a call Peter,’ Karen’s voice says, echoing in the room, ‘MJ Jones.’

‘Uh, thanks Karen, put her on!’ 

‘Hey. You busy today? I need your genetically modified freak genes for something.’

Peter frowns. ‘Nice. Thanks. I’m great by the way.’

‘Sure, sure. Focus, Peter. The shelter’s moving to its new location tonight and we need more hands on deck.’

Peter hisses as the cold starts to grate too much on his skin and yanks his wrists out from underneath the water, flicking drops everywhere. He snatches up the towel draped over the skin and dabs at the sore glands with them. ‘Um, sure. I mean I can do that. Oh! But I need to speak to Mr. Stark—’

‘Yeah, sure. Bring him too. Billionaires should do more for their community and we could use the PR.’

‘No, that’s not—’

‘And why do you still call him Mr. Stark?’

‘What? What’s wrong with that?’

‘It’s weird.’

‘It isn’t weird! What?’

‘Peter. It’s weird. It’s like you’ve got a daddy fetish or something.’

Peter’s mouth drops open and he stands there, like an idiot staring at the bathroom wall.

‘Ms. Jones has ended the call,’ Karen says.

‘Sure,’ Peter says weakly, ‘thanks, Karen.’ He finishes dabbing his wrists dry and tosses the towel in the hamper. ‘I _don’t_ have a daddy fetish,’ he mutters under his breath and stalks out of the bathroom.

Tony’s standing by his bed.

Peter stops, one hand around his wrists protectively. ‘Uhhh…’ he can feel the color climbing up his neck as his whole body runs from hot to cold and back again. The embarrassment is swallowing him whole. 

Did he hear that? Had he heard any of that—

Tony’s got his hands tucked into his pockets and he’s rocking back on his feet. It’s been a few hours since he left Peter down in the workshop and he’s showered and changed. The sleeves of his long-sleeved t-shirt are pushed up past his elbow and the top three buttons of the row that runs halfway down his chest are unbuttoned. 

‘Didn’t I say not to overdo it?’

Peter looks down at the wrists, skin still cool to the touch from the cold water they’d been under for so long. ‘I didn’t?’ He licks his lips and clasps his hands together. ‘Mr. Stark, MJ didn’t mean anything by it she’s just—it was just a joke, um, sorry. I’m gonna head over there later to lend a hand with the—’

‘The shelter. Moving. Yeah, I heard,’ Tony says, voice wry. ‘What time are we leaving?’

‘We?’

‘This billionaire is supposed to do more for the community or so I heard.’

Peter closes his eyes. He’s going to kill MJ. He’s actually going to use his powers for evil. Because evil can only be countered with evil. May will understand. Ned will back him. Ned’s his bro. Peter almost wishes he could disappear. Except that’s happened to him and it wasn’t so fun.

The embarrassment is yanked out of his system as the recall comes to him without warning, intruding on a moment where it isn’t welcome—it’s never welcome—and leaving his stomach warped and unsteady. The world tilts around him and he opens his eyes quickly, panic elevating his pulse as his eyes dart all over the place before settling on the hands he’s holding out for himself. It takes him a moment to focus. To realize that they’re there. Not fading, not disappearing. Those are his hands.

Fingers snap in front of his face.

Peter jerks his head up, eyes wide. The air leaves him on a gasp.

Tony’s in front of him. Peering into his face and there’s a small sharp pain on the swell of his calf. Peter lowers his hands and finds Alley Cat staring up at him, standing on her hind legs, one paw clawing into the muscle of Peter’s calf.

‘Hey, hey.’ Tony’s voice is soft, coaxing. Strong calloused fingers curl gently around Peter’s wrists, drawing back his attention. His hands are warm.

‘Sorry,’ Peter says. The breath he lets out comes out shaky. He steps back, dislodging Alley Cat who hisses at him before turning her back on him and jumping up onto his bed. ‘I’m okay. I’m okay, Mr. Stark.’ He tugs his wrists away and starts walking backwards. ‘And you don’t have to come tonight, MJ was just being…MJ. I’m uh, gonna get dressed and head over there now.’

‘I don’t mind—’

But Peter just smiles brightly, clasping his hands tightly together. ‘I’ll see you later Mr. Stark. Don’t wait up.’

Tony doesn’t move for a while, his eyes narrowed on Peter’s face. Then he clucks his tongue once. He nods. ‘Alrighty. Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.’ He stops by the bed to run his fingers over Alley Cat’s head, dragging a reluctant purr out of her. Then with one more look over his shoulder at Peter, he makes his way out of the room.

Peter’s eyes are fixed on the point where Tony’s just disappeared. He lets his hands fall back to his side.

They’re shaking.

He’s not sure if it’s from experiencing his nightmare like this, or if it’s because he’d been so close to throwing himself at Tony.

Yeah. Peter’s screwed.

And the least MJ can do since he’s going to be carting around boxes for her, is listen to him.

Peter might get punched in the face tonight.

~

When Peter finishes setting down the fifth one of the boxes from the last batch that he’d been helping transfer from the truck to the back room of the new shelter, MJ is standing there, arms folded across her chest, glare pinned on Peter. Her hair has escaped the knot she’d put it up in, falling over her eyes in curly kinks. She blows at at it, tossing her head back to get it to move but it doesn’t work. She just huffs in annoyance but doesn’t bother to shove it out of the way.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asks.

Peter toes at the corner of the box he’s plopped down and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

He feels warm, loosened up. The work has helped to distract him so far and as the boxes dwindled so had his temporary peace because it meant that he’d have to think about everything. Kind of like how he’s doing now. Yeah. He’s definitely thinking about it now.

‘Spit it out Parker. We still need to finish putting these in the back before we can close up,’ she says.

And because she’s MJ and lying to her is pointless and telling her he doesn’t want to talk about it is pointless—and also a _lie_ because Peter _needs_ to talk to someone else about it and although Ned is like, the world’s coolest best friend, Peter’s not sure if he’s the one he’d want to get advice on this from. Although. That gives him pause and eyes MJ. It’s not like the three of them are good at these sorts of things so she’ll probably be as bad at this as Peter or Ned. 

Huh.

‘Okay. Let me guess,’ she rolls her eyes, ‘it’s Stark.’

Oh _god_ is it written on his _face_?

‘Oh, please,’ she waves her hand at him, ‘yeah. Hate to break it to you but I’ve seen you make that face multiple times already. It’s pathetic actually. You need to work on your poker face. For a superhero it’s really problematic.’

‘What? How? I wear a _mask_ —‘

‘Yeah. That’s a good thing.’

‘Hey!’

‘I don’t mean,’ she waves at his general self, ‘you’re pretty, okay? I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,’ another roll of eyes, ‘alright. So what is it?’ She hitches herself up onto what’s going to be the new welcome counter for visitors to the shelter.

Peter sighs and then goes over to hop up next to her.

They both stare out the windows looking out onto the quickly darkening street outside. The streetlights are starting to come on further down the road. At least this is a better location than the other shelter, more traffic noise but more visibility and the noise won’t be so bad that it’ll unsettle the animals. Plus, Peter’s seen all the space in the back and MJ had said that this place would be able to hold more strays as well. The even better part is that this one also has a bigger room for the in-house vets. They have a rota for the volunteer vets that means they have someone to cover each day of the week. It hadn’t been an easy thing to do, but MJ had volunteered for the task of securing that part of it. If MJ ever tries to leave this place, Peter’s not so sure the manager won’t sabotage every attempt she makes just to keep her here.

It’s not perfect but Peter thinks they made a good choice with the relocation and that the shelter will benefit from it.

‘Well?’

Peter groans and rubs his hands over his eyes, digging the heels of his hands in until dull stars burst against the black of his eyelids. Then he pushes his hair back from his face, blinking when his eyes smart against the lack of pressure and the bright lights blaring down from the shelter’s ceiling. 

‘Mr. Stark…’

‘Yeeees?’

‘I—with Mr. Stark, I mean, I want—I think—‘

MJ is staring at him, an unimpressed curl to her lip, eyebrow arched as she watches him try to get the words out. ‘Okay. So, basically you’ve realized what the rest of us have known all this time, which is, that you want to fuck Tony Stark.’

Peter’s mouth drops open.

‘And call him daddy.’

Peter splutters.

‘I’m joking, relax.’

Peter doesn’t look away from her. He can feel how tight his jaw is as he gnaws on on his lower lip. ‘I did. I do. Uh—not the part about calling him daddy—’ MJ gives him a doubtful look which Peter ignores because yeah okay, it’s not like it wouldn’t turn him on to do it—anything with Tony would turn him on at this point, ‘but I guess I’ve always had some kind of feelings for him? It’s just…it’s just…’ he thinks about the time he’s been spending with Tony.

He’s spent time with Tony before. But not like this. Not so intimately. Not with Tony so tactile and transparent in his concern. Emotionally. Because Tony has always told him when he thinks Peter is trying too hard. 

Peter drags in a deep breath and then shrugs. ‘There were these moments that were so—so—you know? And, I mean nothing happened. But I felt like it could? And he pulled back. I’m not sure if he—if he feels the same way. He calls me a kid _all_ the time.’

‘I doubt Tony Stark is under the impression that you’re still a fifteen year old. Not when you’ve had,’ she pauses there and makes air quotes, ‘moments.’ She gives him a long look. ‘So. What are you gonna do about it?’

‘What? Me? No! Nothing. What am I supposed to do?’

Yeah. She does not look impressed with him. At all. ‘Tell him. For starters. I don’t understand why you’re this nervous. Hasn’t he had his AI stalking you forever?’

He huffs. ‘That’s different, that was because. Because.’ He turns away, starts to swing his feet, bouncing his heels off the counter. ‘We almost died.’ Trepidation rolls over him whenever he gets close to even thinking about it. But he doesn’t shy away from it this time. ‘I _did_ die. And he was there. It was so bad. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. If any of us will, you know?’

Beside him, MJ sighs, soft this time, no irritation in it. She scoots until she’s sitting close to him, their arms pressed together. ‘Peter.’

He looks over at her. She’s looking at him, eyes soft and the smallest of genuine curls to her mouth. ‘Tell him.’

‘Right,’ he nods, faces forward again and watches the cars go by. ‘Tell him.’ He thinks about that morning. About all of those almosts that he’s sure weren’t felt by him alone. ‘Okay. Yeah. Sure. I can do that.’

‘So, tomorrow is the big night right?’

‘Huh? Oh, yeah. May already picked out this sweet tux for me and everything,’ Peter smiles. ‘I like it. I’m picking her up before we head over to the ceremony.’

‘Pictures. I want pictures, Parker.’

‘You know you could just come with us, right? Ned can’t make it either.’

‘Well, all the more reason for you to try and bang Stark tomorrow, right? Seduce him with your epic tux and non-existent charm.’

Peter shoves her—gently!—and can’t help but laugh when she flips him off.

‘Seriously, though,’ MJ says as she straightens and leans on the counter, really grinning at him now, ‘you suck at seduction.’

And yeah, Peter loves his friends.


	11. Chapter 11

‘Wow.’ Pepper comes into view in the mirror. She stands by the door, hand curled around the handle. Her dress sweeps all the way to the floor, the royal blue stunning on her. ‘Didn’t think you’d remember that this is actually going to happen today.’

Tony gives up on the bow tie and lets it fall to drape around his neck and turns his back on his reflection. ‘Yeah well, next time don’t bribe my AI.’

‘Next time, just show up to the planning meetings like you’re supposed to. Everyone else should be arriving.’ She dusts an invisible speck off his shoulder. ‘Where’s Peter?’ She reaches for the bow tie and starts to get it done, movements quick, efficient. 

Tony looks down his nose to observe Pepper’s handiwork. ‘Went to pick up May. He’s meeting us there.’ 

‘Okay. I swear, the two of you are more alike than you’d expect. Getting the kid to even agree to a tux was a nightmare.’

‘He’s not a kid.’

Pepper pauses. 

Okay. So maybe it comes out harsher than he meant it to. But isn’t that what everyone’s been telling him non-stop every time Tony even thinks the word?

Slowly Pepper lifts her eyes to Tony. The considering look in them has him hoping that she won’t poke too deeply into this one. He’s not sure he can handle losing Pepper twice. He barely even has her now.

Pepper finishes fixing his bow tie, not looking away from him and smooths the gleaming black lapels of his tux. ‘No,’ she says softly and drops her eyes, ‘you’re right. I hope you remember that, Tony.’ She steps back and gives him a once over. Her smile when she pastes it on her face is bright. She clasps her hands together. ‘You look good.’

‘I know.’ 

It gets a small laugh out of her. ‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go.’

Tony tucks his phone in the inside pocket of his tux and buttons it up. ‘Where’s Mitchell?’

‘It’s _Martin_. Don’t be an ass, Tony.’

‘Can’t help it, seems to be my natural state.’

~

Tony’s accustomed to blinding flashes of lights and microphones being shoved in his face. He bares his teeth in smiles he doesn’t mean and drops a few comments wrapped in barbs that make reporters hiss at him and mutter under their breaths—Tony catches the quiet _motherfucker_ one particular reporter turns away to utter between clenched teeth. He also doesn’t care. He just keeps going, Pepper at his side, close but not too close.

‘FRIDAY, tabs on Peter Parker?’ Tony asks as they walk and he’s forced to wait when Pepper is too polite to tell an asshole reporter who steps into her path to fuck off. Tony lets her handle it. Pepper doesn’t need anyone to rescue her. She proved that one a long time ago.

‘Mr. Parker arrived twenty-three minutes ago. Mr. Parker is accompanied tonight by Mrs. May Parker. They are currently in the main lounge reserved solely for members of the Avengers Initiative.’

‘Alright. Tell him we’re on our way up.’

Pepper must catch what he says because she glances over her shoulder and gives Tony a small nod of acknowledgement, making a subtle gesture for Tony to hold on. A few seconds later, she’s back at his side.

There’s a chilled breeze tonight and the skin on her arms is raised against the cold. ‘So you’re still keeping tabs on him like that,’ she says, slipping her arm through his. 

They walk the red carpet, the blue of Pepper’s dress dragging behind them as they head for the automatic glass doors. They’re supposed to watch the fireworks and the unveiling from the rooftop. 

‘Turns out,’ he says, motioning her in before him, ‘it’s mutual tab keeping.’ The warmth of the compound wraps around them and Tony slips a finger between his neck and the necktie, wincing because it’s pinching. He wouldn’t put it past Pepper to have done it on purpose.

‘Tony,’ Pepper tightens the grip of her arm through his, drawing him to a stop in the lobby. The stewards are paid well enough that they know not to pay attention to the conversation. ‘Doesn’t it seem odd to you?’

‘What?’

‘This can’t all be just guilt.’ 

Tony’s not an idiot. He knows what she’s saying. He knows she’s right. Tony sighs and looks away. ‘It’s not. I don’t know what it is.’

Her eyes search his face. ‘Don’t lie, Tony,’ she says, gently.

‘Mr. Stark?’

Tony sucks in air like he can inhale Peter’s voice.

‘Ms. Potts, you look beautiful!’

‘Thank you, Peter. I like the tux, who picked it?’

‘May,’ Peter laughs, ‘if I’d picked it then I think security would’ve kicked me out.’

‘What do you think Tony?’ Pepper asks and touches Tony’s arm.

The thing is Tony doesn’t even need to look to know that he’s going to feel it like a kick in the gut.

Tony’s wrong.

It’s not a kick in the gut. It’s more like having Thor call down thunder on him. That’s what the sight of Peter does to him right now.

He looks—yeah. 

May has good taste. Great taste. Amazing, even.

The three piece burgundy suit moulds to Peter’s form perfectly. It has the slightest of sheens to it and sets off Peter’s skin to perfection. His hair has been brushed back from his face. He looks sharp. He looks good.

No. He looks gorgeous.

‘Tony?’ Pepper’s looking up at him.

Tony clears his throat. ‘Yeah. You look great, Pete.’

The smile that steals across Peter’s face is amazing. ‘Thanks,’ Peter ducks his head. Tony sees the red spreading over the tops of his cheeks. ‘So do you Mr. Stark.’

‘Alright people!’ Fury’s voice booms in the building, accompanied by the clap of his hands. ‘Ceremony is about to start.’ 

Tony can’t help but blink at the sight of him in formal wear. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Fury in anything but his SHIELD uniform. 

‘Let’s get it moving, Stark. Gotta share the limelight tonight.’

Before Tony can retort, Fury’s striding back up the stairs, Pepper at his side after throwing a grin over her shoulder at Tony.

Peter falls into step with Tony and they make the climb together.

‘You and Ms. Potts seem different,’ Peter says. ‘I’m glad.’

Tony shouldn’t be surprised the kid spotted it. Peter’s always had a perceptive mind, part of what’s made him such a big pain in the ass all these years. It’s also part of what makes him so valuable to this team. And to Tony. ‘That obvious huh?’

‘She’s your friend. You guys split up but anyone can see you didn’t stop caring about each other. I think it’s cool.’

‘Cool huh?’

Peter just smiles and continues on quietly by Tony’s side.

‘Where’s your Aunt?’

‘Oh. Right,’ Peter’s shoulders slump and he rubs a hand over his face, ‘I was trying to forget about that. May found Thor.’

Tony arches a brow when Peter doesn’t elaborate. ‘And?’

Peter sighs. ‘You’ll see.’

~

You’d think Tony would be used to it by now. But even for him it’s still a little bit surreal whenever so many of the Avengers are in the same room together. They’re not talking strategy or tending to each other’s wounds and carrying each other to safety. They’re just shooting the shit. Sitting around at the dinner table, on the sofas, by the bar with every single surface covered in some type of alcohol, songs playing quietly in the background.

It’s—

Tony chuckles and shakes his head at his own sentimentality. It feels good, even if it’s only temporary.

They’d flown in earlier in preparation for the anniversary that none of them are particularly excited about. T’Challa, Shuri and Okoye had been the first to arrive, bringing Bucky along with them.

The last time they’d attempted something like this, Ultron happened.

‘We should’ve done this sooner.’ Steve steps up next to him, leaning on the balcony and looking down at the people sitting and standing in little clusters.

‘I think you’re right.’ Tony holds out his tumblr and Steve toasts him with his bottle of beer.

Natasha and Bruce have broken off from the rest and are standing by the bar, heads together, backs to the rest of the room. Tony nudges Steve with his shoulder and gestures at them with his glass. He knows the minute Steve notices Bruce’s hand on the small of Natasha’s back because he hears his chuckle. 

Thor’s interest in May is starting to alarm Tony too.

The unveiling of the monument had passed without much fanfare. For all that they were making this night about the Avengers, not one of them had chosen to go outside for the unveiling. The courtyard had been filled to the brim with reporters and high end officials all wanting to lick each other’s asses.

They’d stayed inside, enjoying the spread laid out for them and enjoying the simple pleasure of just being in each other’s company without having to worry about imminent life loss.

‘Think they’ll finally make it past first base?’

Steve gives him a sidelong look, tone wry when he replies. ‘I’m not really in a position to judge.’

‘No kidding,’ Tony snorts before taking a sip of whisky. He can sense Steve looking at him and knows more or less what he’s about to say considering that Pepper is among the people present, her hand in Martin’s as they talk to Rhodey and Maria Hill.

So Tony preempts it. ‘If that’s who Bucky has his eye on,’ Tony says, watching the way Bucky’s eyes seem to keep returning to the Princess sitting on the couch in the middle of a complicated conversation with Professor Selvic, ‘then you’re gonna have to keep a closer eye on his back. A little young isn’t she?’

Steve shrugs. ‘So’s Peter Parker.’

Tony doesn’t choke on his drink but it’s a near thing. Without meaning to he finds Peter. He doesn’t even have to look for him, like his entire attention had already been drawn in that direction. It should bother him more. 

Peter’s at the dinner table that is still mostly occupied by others. There’s a stunned look on his face as he, along with the rest of the Avengers listen to whatever Wizard of Waverly Place is saying. Stephen’s got sparks showering from his fingertips as he talks—and is that a sigil he’s drawing on the table? Is that even safe?

But it’s not like Tony can ignore Steve forever, so. ‘Something you wanna say, Rogers?’

‘Not saying anything,’ Steve says and his tone is easy. He rests his arms on the balcony edge, hand loose around the neck of the bottle. 

‘You know, I don’t understand how everyone falls for your goody-two-shoes act.’

‘I think it’s the face,’ Steve says, deadpan.

‘There’s nothing there, Rogers, let it go.’

‘Then maybe you should tell the kid to stop looking at you like that.’

Of course Tony automatically looks at Peter. He finds Peter’s eyes right on him, not even seeming to realize that he’s chewing on his lower lip and has checked out of the conversation at the table. Tony expects him to look away once he realizes that he’s been caught staring but he doesn’t. He stops chewing on his lip though and then goes oddly still. He keeps right on looking at Tony.

‘And it would help if you didn’t stare back.’

Tony jerks, snapping out of it. He gives Steve a filthy look but Steve just put his hands up and steps away, smile dancing on his face.

When Tony looks again, Peter’s head is down, body turned slightly away so that he’s facing everyone else a little better. 

Tony can feel Steve’s smug silence beside him.

‘God I wanna punch you in the face,’ he says and then knocks back the rest of his drink.

~

It’s past two in the morning and the conversations which had been so full of energy earlier in the evening have changed into quieter ones with more weight, leaving a tinge of seriousness that’s hard to shake off. Most of them have squeezed into the sofas now, gathered the remaining drinks and food all on the table as they continue talking.

Tony’s in a good place, filled with amazing food and a pleasant buzz. It helps that Pepper had left with Martin earlier, because although they’re working on things and their new odd friendship is becoming something better for both of them, it’s still alien, underlined by an odd tension that Tony isn’t convinced will ever really go away. Bruce and Natasha disappeared a while back too and Tony hopes the two of them are finally giving what they want a chance.

Also, he wants to give them shit for it in the morning. He can already imagine Bruce’s face.

Tony tries not to think about how close they all came to losing this.

Peter, he notices, isn’t with the group and after a moment debating with himself whether he should or shouldn’t, Tony gets up and goes looking.

It doesn’t take much.

When he finds him, Peter’s on the upper floor, not far from where Tony and Steve had been earlier, themselves. The doors leading to the balcony are pushed far apart and Peter’s standing there, looking out at the view. The wind is fierce up here and when Tony steps outside, he’s surprised by how cold it is.

‘Had enough already?’ he asks.

Peter shakes his head. ‘No. It’s pretty cool, seeing everyone together like this. It’s nice.’

‘So you’re out here because…?’

Peter looks over his shoulder at him. ‘I don’t know. I just—got overwhelmed for a sec,’ Peter struggles to find the words, ‘I just thought, we almost didn’t get to have this, you know? And it just, I don’t know.’

The thoughts are eerily similar to Tony’s and he finds himself stepping forward. Peter’s hair is thick and soft through Tony’s fingers as he ruffles it. ‘Yeah,’ Tony says, ‘but we did. That’s the part that matters.’

Peter doesn’t reply but Tony feels the motion of his head as he agrees.

‘Mr. Stark.’

Peter turns to look at him and Tony’s hand slides down to the back of his neck.

Tony can still hear the conversations downstairs, the soft strums of the music that no one has bothered to turn off even though no one’s really listening. But Peter’s looking at him and Tony should’ve maybe thought this through because they’re standing so close. Tony can smell the hint of cologne that Peter’s wearing. Something fresh and sharp, cutting right into Tony’s senses. The skin of Peter’s nape is warm underneath Tony’s hand, the short hairs on the back of his neck soft against Tony’s fingers. Tony can’t see the color of Peter’s eyes in the dark.

And then he watches as the kid’s expression resolves itself into the same expression that Tony’s seen him use whenever he’s about to face something that scares the shit out of him head on. Peter straightens his shoulders and closes the space between them, head tipping back just enough. He steadies himself with his hand on Tony’s shoulder. His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes search Tony’s face.

‘Shit,’ Tony murmurs, dropping his hand to Peter’s waist, eyes on that thin mouth because it’s so red in the dark and Tony wants it. Fuck. Tony really wants it. If his fingers dig into Peter’s side too hard, Peter doesn’t betray it, because his eyes just look hungry.

Jesus. He wants Peter Parker.

Yeah.

Tony’s going to hell.

Peter’s warm breath ghosts over Tony’s lips and a groan starts deep in Tony’s throat.

That first brush is just a ghost of a touch.

The crash followed by roaring laughter rips into the silence and Tony jerks back.

Peter is staring at him.

Tony can feel his heart pounding in his throat.

Shit. _Shit_. Tony wipes a hand down his face and slows himself down. Takes another step back.

Peter waits, hands clenched at his side. His face is turned away and there’s a muscle working at his jaw. Tony composes himself, wraps his fingers around Peter’s chin, thumb stroking into that cleft at the centre that can’t decide whether it’s there or not. He forces Peter to look at him.

‘Not here. We need to talk. After. Okay?’

Peter swallows, Tony can hear the sound of it through the quietness outside. Then Peter nods. ‘Okay.’

Tony searches his face. But there’s nothing there he doesn’t want to see. ‘Good.’ Tony steps back. ‘Let’s go.’


	12. Chapter 12

The gathering lasts for a couple more hours.

To Peter it feels like he’s standing on a precipice, the only thing keeping him from falling and losing his control is nothing but sheer will.

Still—Peter doesn’t want to rush it. Not because he doesn’t want to get Tony alone and find out where all of this is going to lead. But because this is something that might happen again for a very long time in the near future. So he pushes it away. Tries as much as he can to pretend that Tony isn’t on the other side of the room, tux jacket discarded, bowtie gone and hair sticking up at odd places from running his fingers through it too many times during the night.

Peter manages to put it in the back of his mind while he sits with Shuri at the table, listening to her talk excitedly about the latest advancements she’s made. It’s nice. It feels good to bask in someone else’s excitement, to share and learn new things and talk and enjoy each other’s company without the fear that any second might be the last one before they’re killed where they stand.

‘You should come visit,’ Shuri says, smiling, ‘I think we could have some fun experimenting with that web fluid of yours. I’d love to break it down and see what we could—sh’ Shining metal fingers curl over Shuri’s shoulders, drawing her attention away from Peter and up, to look at Bucky Barnes standing just behind her. ‘Sergeant Barnes?’ She reaches up to touch the metal hand with the tips of her fingertips.

Peter pauses with his bottle of coke halfway to his mouth and looks from one to the other. Oh.

‘Your brother asked me to come get you, we’re leaving.’

‘Oh, alright.’ Shuri stands, she smiles at Peter, holding out a hand to him. ‘Remember what I said. Come visit us—we could have some fun.’ She doesn’t notice that the words bring a touch of a frown to Bucky’s mouth. Peter does though.

Still. He’s not turning down this kind of opportunity.

‘Of course!’ He holds out his hand to her and is surprised and flustered when she holds onto it with both of her own and squeezes gently. 

‘It was good talking to you, Mr. Parker. Keep in touch.’

‘I will!’

Bucky nods at him in goodbye and, hand resting on Shuri’s back, steers her towards her brother.

Peter sets down his coke and leans back in his chair with a sigh. He’s tired. But a good kind of tired. The murmur of voices around him and the low music playing in the background, something with deep notes and a rhythm that makes Peter think of the deep of night time, soothes him and he closes his eyes. Just to rest them. 

Just for a second.

The fingers carding through his hair wake him up. Peter blinks in confusion, his eyes wanting to stay closed but he fights it.

‘Hey, sleeping beauty. Think you can walk to the car?’

Peter opens his mouth to reply but a yawn catches him and cracks his jaw wide open and he hides if half-heartedly. ‘Mr. Stark?’

‘Let’s go, party’s over.’

It’s true. While Peter had closed his eyes for a minute, the room has emptied out. The remnants of their dinner have been cleared away from the table and all that’s left are the drinks and mugs that had come with the tea and coffee that had been brought out some time after the fireworks.

Peter stands and stretches his arms up, lengthening himself until his body catches in that sweet tightening of muscles before releasing it and letting the looseness go through him. ‘Where’s May?’

Tony clears his throat. 

When Peter turns around, Tony’s eyes snap up to his face. ‘She left.’

Peter blinks. ‘She left?’

‘Well, a more accurate description would be Thor offered to escort her home.’

‘Oh my god—’

‘Alright, alright calm down. It was strictly platonic. You were sleeping—‘

‘Yeah, she should’ve woken me up! Why didn’t she—’

‘Because you’re coming home with me.’ Tony’s got his hands in his pockets and is looking at Peter over the hardwired rims of his glasses. ‘We need to talk. Unless you’ve changed your mind about that.’

There’s no way Peter has forgotten anything. ‘Yeah, I—yeah.’ Peter wets his lips, mouth feeling dry. ‘Yes. I still want to do that.’

The night is cool as they wait for the car to be brought around. They stand side by side, shoulders brushing. The clouds have rolled out into the night, they drift across the sky with the push of the wind.

One of Mr. Stark’s cars is brought around, paintwork gleaming under the lights from the compounds. A steward steps out, still looking as crisp as he had earlier in the evening. ‘Mr. Stark,’ he says, opening the door for him. Peter’s already heading around to the other side.

Peter slides inside, the sharp nip of the breeze disappearing from his skin as he settles inside the custom made seats. 

The second he shuts the door, all he can smell is Tony. Peter lets his eyes fall closed again and lets his head fall back on the headrest.

‘You okay?’

Peter opens his eyes half-mast. ‘Yeah.’ In the dark of the interior, Peter turns his head to watch Tony. The car comes to life around them. He can’t see Tony’s eyes. The light reflects off the lenses and half of his face is cast in shadow.

‘Mr. Stark?’

‘Yeah?’

Peter takes a deep breath, hands fisting in his lap. Despite the lead up to all of this, it feels like his stomach is being sucked up into his chest and he shifts on his seat. He doesn’t notice that he’s rubbing his hands over and over his thighs until Tony sends a pointed look his way. 

‘This isn’t just me right? I’m not imagining—you’re in this too right?’ And it all comes rushing out of him because MJ is right. Peter has zero seduction skills and in the back of his mind, there’s a voice telling him that somehow he’s got this wrong. ‘Because every time we almost…’ Peter swallows. ‘You back away, like tonight and that time we went on a walk and—‘

The grip around his face is rough, cutting him off and turning his face. 

Tony tastes like whiskey. Peter catches the flavour on his tongue. Tony’s hand is too tight on his face, digging into his chin and cheeks forcing Peter still for him as he rips any tentativeness out of the situation. Peter just grabs on, fingers scraping at Tony’s arms because the tux is fitted so perfectly he can’t even catch a handful of the material. So he just holds on and opens his mouth, eyes closed and groaning as Tony’s teeth scrape and catch his bottom lip, the sharpness of the pain making the pool of arousal low in his belly turn thick and golden.

By the time Tony pulls away, Peter’s aware of two things. One, he’s speechless. Like. There are no words. Because this is what people mean, this is what people mean when they say their mind is blown. Two, the pants Peter’s wearing are way too tight and his dick isn’t liking it in there much.

His head is empty and all he can do is stare at Tony, his lips still throbbing from the scrape and bite of Tony’s teeth.

Tony sits back and starts the car again. He doesn’t look away from Peter as he does it, a curl of satisfaction tugging at a corner of Tony’s mouth.

‘That answer your question?’

Peter just pulls his lower lip in with his teeth and nods over and over.

‘Good.’

~

The workshop is pitch black once the doors close behind it.

Peter doesn’t even get a chance to open the door on his side himself because Tony’s already there, door open, hand curling around Peter’s wrist and tugging him out of the car.

Peter’s heart beats like crazy and he can feel it in the beat of the pulse at his neck, at the way the sound around him seems to pulse with it. Only the emergency lights, their weak light just enough to add a touch of clarity, guides them to the stairs leading up to the main house.

With Tony’s hand locked around his wrist and his thumb pressed directly over Peter’s gland, Peter’s pants just get tighter. 

The house is eerily silent around them, only the occasional squeak of Tony’s sneakers and the sound of Peter’s dress shoes echoing around them.

At one point Peter catches sight of a slinky shadow and mismatched eyes in the dark and has the brief clarity of thought to wonder if Alley Cat has been in the workshop again and followed them out, but then it’s gone when he realizes that they’re not going to his room.

Tony’s room.

They’re going to Tony’s room.

‘I really like the tux.’

The sound of Tony’s voice startles him. But then Tony’s stopping suddenly. The door clicks as it opens under the push of Tony’s palm and then Peter’s back is against it and the door slams shut under his weight. Tony’s hands slam down either side of him. What Peter doesn’t expect is for Tony drop his head down onto Peter’s shoulder and groan.

Peter sets tentative hands on Tony’s waist. ‘Mr. Stark.’

‘May is going to kill me. You know that right?’ Tony lifts his head. ‘This,’ he gestures between the two of them, ‘something like this will be all over the papers the minute they get a sniff of you spending more time with me than usual. You get that right? You’re a college student, you’re not gonna need that kind of—‘

Yeah. Peter really doesn’t care about all of that. He unbuttons Tony’s tux jacket and slides his hand up the smooth silk of the waistcoat inside.

‘Pretty sure I’ll be okay, Mr. Stark.’

‘Pete,’ Tony sighs, he pushes off the wall entirely and catches Peter’s hands in a gentle grip now, pushing them together and cradling them together. ‘Thinking you’ll be okay really isn’t gonna cut it this time—’

‘I want you.’ The words blurt out between them, clumsy and rushed and desperate. Because if he can’t make Tony understand him, Peter doesn’t get to have this. 

Peter needs to have this. 

‘I’ve wanted you for so long, but it was different before.’ Peter slides his hands out from Tony’s grip. ‘But Mr. Stark I—I, when I look at you, when I’m _with_ you, I feel good. You make me feel good. I want this. So bad.’ He licks his lips. ‘Please.’

I can do this. I’ve got this. I can do this.

That’s the mantra in Peter’s head as he gathers what’s left of his courage and unbuttons his tux. His fingers fumble with the buttons but soon, the jacket falls to pool at his feet. He starts on the waistcoat next, eyes on his task and lip caught between his teeth because he can move trains and hold back giant aliens but suddenly, three little buttons seem like more than he can handle. But that too falls open and Peter shrugs it off.

‘FRIDAY,’ Tony snaps out, ‘lights.’ Then under his breath, ‘I need to see this.’

Light floods the room. The sudden blatant exposure slows Peter down but doesn’t stop him. He ducks his head, starts in on the shirt buttons.

‘Hey, Pete,’ Tony steps close, his fingers brushing against the flat of Peter’s stomach as he drags his shirt tails up, ‘eyes on me.’

Peter lets his breath out slowly. He hadn’t noticed the fine tremor of his hands but as Tony nudges them aside and takes over, he feels them now. 

The cool air that washes over his chest and belly make him shiver. The snap and rough tug on his belt as Tony pulls it loose, makes him hard.

They’re so close now. Peter can hear every breath Tony takes.

‘Mr. Stark?’

‘Hm?’ Tony’s hands slow and he noses along the line of Peter’s jaw. He unbuttons Peter’s dress pants. But the zipper—god. Peter feels the zipper come down tooth by tooth against the press of his erection and he closes his eyes and prays that he doesn’t come the second Tony gets his hands on him.

Tony’s teeth close over Peter’s earlobe. Peter moans and clutches at Tony’s shoulders. Reminds himself to take it easy and not break anything. He never has before, during sex. But then he’s never been with Tony Stark.

‘Got something to say Pete?’ Tony says right into the shell of Peter’s ear and follows it up with a dip of his tongue.

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut. ‘Oh god, oh god, oh god,’ he whispers, digs his fingers in to the muscles of Tony’s arms. ‘Yeah so, I’ve never done this before.’

Tony stills against him. ‘Come again?’

Peter draws back, the butterflies in his stomach turn to something else as it occurs to him that maybe this might put a damper on things. He can’t quite make out Tony’s expression though. ‘I’ve had sex! I just mean—I haven’t—done, like, a lot. With uh, with guys. I mean, hand jobs, you know? And like, blow jobs but uh—I haven’t. But I want to! I really, really want to. Can we?’

Tony tilts his head back, eyes on the ceiling. 

Then Tony grabs Peter by the hair at his nape and jerks Peter’s head back. He goes in for Peter’s throat, mouth all over it. He’s biting and sucking, plastering Peter back against the door again, using his body weight to hold him there although they both know that Peter can move him in a heartbeat if he wants to.

Hot hands push into his pants from behind, grabbing handfuls of Peter’s bare ass and dragging Peter until he’s straddling Tony’s thigh, rubbing Peter’s cock against the firm muscle. Peter feels the hot painful sting of Tony sucking hard on his neck. 

He’s going to have marks. So many marks. 

Peter sobs when the pull of Tony’s tongue stops and teeth, sharp and unforgiving tug at his skin.

When Tony finally draws back, Peter’s dazed, breath heaving, neck damp and sore.

‘You gonna take the rest of this off?’ Tony’s hands knead his ass, pulling him rhythmically against his thigh. Over and over.

Peter nods. He’s not sure he can talk. 

He toes off his shoes, Tony allowing him enough room to do it before coming right back in again as soon as Peter’s shoes fall to the floor. His pants and shorts aren’t even all the way off. Peter can’t get them past his knees because Tony’s not moving his hands from his ass. And he doesn’t want to think about how stupid he looks right now because Tony doesn’t care. 

Tony’s grip shifts to just under Peter’s ass cheeks and then lifts. 

‘Oh, shit. Mr. Stark—’ Peter’s dick is pressed tight between their bodies, rubbing against his own damp skin and Tony’s clothes. Tony hasn’t removed one item of clothing yet.

When Tony drops him, Peter feels that oh-shit moment before the mattress absorbs his fall and he bounces. Before he’s even pushed himself back to sitting up, his pants and shorts are yanked the rest of the way off. Tony throws them over his shoulder. 

He’s staring at Peter, dragging his gaze over Peter’s legs and zeroing in on Peter’s cock, arching and swollen pink, head almost touching the skin just below his belly button. 

Tony starts stripping.

Peter shifts his legs restlessly. He’s acutely aware of the weight of his balls and the tight hole just beneath them. He has the strongest urge to touch himself, to feel the phantom touch that Tony’s giving him with eyes alone. 

So he does. Face burning, Peter braces himself up on one elbow. Uncertainty makes him rest his hand on his stomach for a bit, feeling his body quivering under his own touch. And then focusing on the way Tony freezes with his shirt half off, he gets that last bit of courage and wraps his hand around his own cock.

‘Oh man,’ his head drops back and he can’t even stroke himself, just holds the heavy weight of his own cock in his hand, can feel his thighs trembling with the need to just stroke hard and fast and come all over himself because then he’d get to do it all over again until he got Tony in him.

‘Jesus, kid. Keep going.’ Tony’s voice rasps over Peter’s senses and he doesn’t even have to look up. Just does as he’s told.

He slips his own touch down further, cups his balls, rubbing his fingers, pushing into the space between the sac and biting his lip to keep from yelling out in pleasure.

And then he reaches below. He feels the soft whorl of hair there, just a dusting of it over his hole. It’s dry and tight under the pad of his finger and he swallows, thinking that it’s not going to work this way. But the thought of Tony breaking him open—

His dick twitches and drools out a bead of come.

‘A warning. Keep doing that and I’m not sure you’re gonna be able to walk tomorrow.’ 

Tony’s hands are big on Peter’s thighs. They’re not gentle either as he grips the inside of Peter’s thighs and shoves them apart.

Peter throws an arm over his head and forces his eyes open.

The thing about Tony Stark is he has a sort of timelessness to him. Peter knows he keeps himself in shape. He’s seen Tony jogging, boxing in the ring, lifting—fighting, building things with his bare hands. So it’s no surprise that every part of Tony is toned. Peter wants to touch him all over. But that’s cool because Tony gets lower, lying down over him, goatee scraping Peter’s skin as Tony’s hips lodge between his legs, forcing them open wider. The head of his dick, hot and hard and velvet soft bumps against Peter’s balls.

It works for Peter, he just lifts and folds his legs around him, bringing him in tight. 

The look Tony gives him is amused. ‘Not going anywhere. But I like this flexible thing you’ve got going on. Let’s test it out, shall we?’ 

‘Wha—‘

Tony grips him beneath his knees and pushes his legs back, Peter’s thighs pressed back until they’re nestled against his flanks. The position splits his ass open and bares it to the light in the room and Tony.

‘Hold them there,’ Tony murmurs, absently. When Peter does what he’s asked and holds his own legs in place, Tony spreads his hands over Peter’s ass. 

Nothing has ever prepared Peter for the sensation of a tongue spearing into his ass.

He yelps, one of his hands slipping to slap down on Tony’s shoulder hard enough to make the other man grunt into Peter’s ass. But Peter’s mindless. ‘Oh G—Mr. Stark—‘

Tony lifts away long enough to look down at Peter’s sweating face, mischief shining in his brown eyes. ‘Tony,’ he corrects, ‘I think we’re at that point now, don’t you? We can explore your daddy kink later.’

Peter groans and drops his head back. ‘I don’t have a—oh, o-oh man, Mr— _Tony!_ ’

Tony spreads him as much as he can, thumbs digging cruelly either side of Peter’s hole, using them to aid in prying him open and tonguing him there, the slippery muscle of his tongue making Peter give, laving the tight ring of his hole with spit and soft licks and sucks that have him bucking up and abandoning holding a leg in place to start rubbing mindlessly at the head of his own dick, spreading the moisture down until his hips are bucking up and Tony has to pin him down by the hips.

His moans echo in the room, husky and broken and desperate. His belly is a mess and his dick is starting to hurt, Peter’s resorted to keeping his hand wrapped tight at the base by the time Tony lifts his head. His face is flushed, his eyes shining and his lips look as swollen and wet as Peter feels down there. His hole feels sloppy and open and yeah sure, he’s had fingers up there before—mainly his own—but this feels—different. 

‘God, you’re stunning.’ 

It makes Peter smile. But it promptly vanishes when Tony dips his head back down and gives the head of Peter’s dick a lick. And that puts Peter back in the right mind space to cry. Except Tony’s biting his way up Peter’s body. He bites, sharp and wicked, down on Peter’s right nipple and a tear trickles down Peter’s cheek. Or maybe it’s sweat. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He wraps his legs back around Tony’s waist as Tony rests a hand on his throat and slams his mouth down on Peter’s.

Peter can taste himself. And if someone had told him he’d be doing this, he might’ve scrunched up his nose and thought about it being something he would absolutely not want to do but right here, right now, it’s the most amazing thing ever and he reaches up to grab on to Tony’s face and kisses him back harder, rolling his hips up to feel Tony’s dick sliding along his wet crack.

Tony fucks his tongue into Peter’s mouth and then pulls away, hissing, to rest his forehead against Peter’s. ‘Fuck. _Fuck_.’

‘What? What is it?’ Peter’s heart is pounding.

‘No condoms.’

Peter blinks. ‘Uh—you don’t—you don’t have any?’

Tony closes his eyes and groans, rolls his hips against Peter’s ass making both of their breaths catch. ‘Kinda been going through a dry spell lately.’

‘Oh. Um. Yeah. So I don’t have any either.’ Peter swallows and urges Tony to look at him again, fingers stroking over Tony’s goatee, Tony’s hair, rubbing over Tony’s lips. ‘Are you safe?’

Tony’s eyes narrow. ‘If you’re—‘

‘Tony,’ Peter snaps out, not in the mood for this shit right now, ‘I don’t go around being unsafe, okay? I barely even get to do it enough to worry about not being safe. But I always am. But I trust you. And I want you in me,’ he’s going to be embarrassed tomorrow, thinking about how close his voice came to a whine at that point, ‘and if you tell me you’re good, then you’re good. But you have to trust _me_ too. I’m not just saying this because I want to fuck. I’m saying this because this is you and —and—‘ he huffs, drops his head back against the pillow. 

‘Shit,’ Tony sighs, ‘okay. Okay. And as touching as that was, we’re still having a safe sex talk when all of this is over.’

Huh. Peter feels the beginnings of a grin stealing over his face. ‘But you’re not saying no.’

‘No. God you’re a pain in the ass.’ Tony pushes himself up to kneel between Peter’s legs. He reaches to the bedside table and Peter sees him yank open the top drawer. He doesn’t take too long. Finding the lube in Peter’s drawer would’ve taken forever.

The bottle makes a soft thud as it lands next to Peter.

‘You sure you’re good with this?’ 

Peter nods. If he nods any harder his head might come off. ‘Yes. Yeah, please.’

The kiss Tony gives him then is different. Small, soft, lips clinging, Tony combing Peter’s hair back from his face. It ends on a gentle nip to the corner of Peter’s mouth and then pulls back. The snap of the lube bottle being opened echoes in Peter’s ears. He watches Tony pour the translucent substance onto his hand and then work it over two fingers. 

Tony braces himself back over Peter, slots his hand between Peter’s legs and rubs the remainder of the lube over his hole, his crack, his balls. He wraps his hand around Peter’s cock and gives it a tight long pull before dipping his hand back down and this time, he presses the tips of two fingers to Peter’s hole. Peter catches his breath, feels his whole body react to the presence of that touch there.

‘Push out,’ Tony says and presses his fingers in.

Oh.

_Oh._

Peter’s held still by Tony’s weight on him. He swallows and reaches his hands up, pressing them up against the headboard for extra leverage.

‘Try not to break it or anything,’ Tony says, and his expression seems to be saying this is a joke. But it doesn’t come out that way. Not when every part of Tony is tense now, as tense as Peter as fingers slide up inside him, making a space in him that’s not used to having anything there. It burns a little, but it’s not as bad as Peter thought. As Tony moves his fingers inside Peter, he rubs at his perineum with his thumb and Peter’s not sure if he’s going to survive this.

When Peter’s rocking back into his fingers and mouthing at Tony’s arm where it’s braced next to him, Tony pulls them out.

Little drops of sweat run down Tony’s stomach, disappearing into the short hair at the base of his dick. Tony’s dick is maybe shorter than Peter’s, not by much. Peter’s not thinking straight right now so he doubts his measuring abilities are up to scratch. What he _can_ see for sure though, is how thick it is. 

And Peter wants to see it go in.

Tony takes himself in hand, rubs the head of his dick against Peter’s hole and just seeing it almost breaks Peter apart. Tony glances up at him. ‘Alright?’

Peter bites his lip. He nods.

And Tony presses in.

Tony’s hands framing his hips, index fingers sliding into the creases of his thighs and thumbs pressing into the tops of his ass hard enough to hurt. The blunt pressure inside him is breathtaking and Peter’s breathing through his clenched teeth, brows pulled together as he tries to breathe. It hurts. Fuck it hurts but he still wants it. He doesn’t realize he’s got a hand out, flattened to Tony’s chest, that he’s panting hard as his body tries to cope with the massive intrusion.

‘Are you gonna do it? Or are you gonna make me take it?’ 

The words shoot through him and Peter groans. His dick, which had begun to go soft as soon as Tony started pushing in for real, twitches at the words because the image that cuts through the haze of burning discomfort is too hot not to. 

Peter’s ass speared on Tony’s cock while Peter lies there, taking it. 

The thumbs digging into Peter ease up and start smoothing over his sweaty skin, over and over, little strokes that after the first few start to end on the fingers tucked between his groin gently encouraging Peter to tilt his hips, enough that he feels his hole give and let in more. The noise he makes sounds alien, like he’s being choked and wounded all at once.

‘Fuck, kid—easy,’ Tony hisses. His face is scrunched up, teeth gritted, like it’s hurting him too. Maybe it is, the fit is so tight Peter’s amazed Tony can move inside him at all.

‘Sorry—I can’t—‘

Tony reaches for Peter’s cock. Peter almost cries when he feels that hand, slippery with sweat and lube wrap around his cock and begin to stroke. His hips hitch and he feels Tony’s dick slide in another inch. It burns. But at the same time the slick slide mixes with the pleasure from his cock being milked in long sure strokes that match the tiny thrusts of Tony’s hips against him.

‘That’s it,’ Tony whispers. The thrusts of his hips get stronger, forcing a little more in. ‘That’s it,’ Tony groans, head dropping, face hovering above Peter’s. He begins to work his hips properly and Peter feels he difference.

‘Oh man, oh man, Mr. St—‘ Peter chokes, forgetting how to breathe on the next thrust. Because that’s it. Oh my god that’s it.

Peter arches, mouth open on a silent moan. Tony’s balls press tight against his ass, his thighs spread wide around Tony’s hips, his ass spread wide on Tony’s cock. He’s digging his fingers into Tony’s chest, right above his heart.

Then his face is being taken in Tony’s hands and soft kisses are brushing his face everywhere. It’s only when Tony presses those kisses to Peter’s eyelashes that he realizes his eyes are wet.

‘Fuck,’ Tony sounds so reverent, ‘that’s so good. That feels so good.’ Tony sounds like this is hurting him. He pulls out, making Peter gasp at the friction but stops before leaving Peter completely. He pushes back in, forces the air out of Peter’s lungs.

And it still hurts.

But the pleasure edges it all out.

Yeah, this is good.

‘Yeah. I like this,’ Peter says.

Tony chokes out a laugh, shakes his head. And then he starts to fuck him.

Hard.

At some point, he sits back, takes Peter’s hips in hand and starts nailing his prostate on every thrust. His hands grip Peter tight and Peter loves it. Because he’s strong and he can take whatever Tony gives him and he wants Tony to know that. He wants Tony to lose himself in him, to lean on him, to take from him.

His hole is sore and it stills feels like he’s being rammed, his insides sensitive from the penetration but his dick is so hard it hurts.

’T-Tony, m’close—I’m close,’ he groans.

‘Yeah?’

And then he does something Peter isn’t expecting.

He drops his weight onto Peter, grabs Peter’s wrist, he grinds his dick in deep, slams his mouth down over Peter’s web gland and sucks.

Peter’s not sure. But he thinks he blacks out for a second, because when he opens his eyes a few moments his later, his chest hurts and the sounds he’s making are like sobs and there’s come splattered all over his stomach and chest. His body jostles as Tony fucks into him, head down, hips pistoning in and out of him. Tony gasps when he comes. He gasps and fists Peter’s hair, bringing Peter’s mouth up so he can gasp into it, and bite at his bottom lip as he spills inside him, hips slapping hard against Peter as he wrings out every last drop, until eventually he’s just a hot and heavy damp weight covering Peter head to toe.

That’s how Peter falls asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Tony wakes up to an unusual situation.

His body is weighed down, sleep clinging to him, making him feel heavy. The kind of sleep where he knows he’s been out cold instead of the sleep he’d become used to in recent times, where he’ll toss and turn and nap for ten or twenty minutes at a time before a memory-turned-nightmare forces him to drag himself awake.

The second unusual thing is, he’s in bed. His own bed. Which he hasn’t really had a close relationship with lately.

And the third is one Peter Parker, lying right beside him, stretched out on his stomach, arms shoved beneath the pillow, his face soft and mouth slack with sleep turned towards him. 

The sheets are only halfway up to his waist, leaving all of him bare to the eye. Tony’s got his arm wrapped tight around Peter’s lower back. 

Shit. He aches. All over. That’s what he gets for showing off with an eighteen year old.

They haven’t been asleep long because it’s still dark outside. Tony can just about make out the lighter hues of dawn beginning to streak the sky.

‘Pete?’ he says and finds himself amazed by the ability to just run his hand up the centre of Peter’s spine and rub his thumb along his jaw. 

Peter frowns in his sleep, nose scrunching up before his entire body clenches and then falls pliant again. He watches those eyelashes go up, just a sliver. 

‘Mr. Stark?’ 

Christ. Maybe the kid does have a thing. ‘Thought we agreed on Tony?’ he says and as he does, he notices for the first time, the way Peter’s neck and chest is blotched with huge bruises all the way to his collarbones. 

Tony may have gone overboard. In his defense, it’d been a long time.

Awareness starts to creep into Peter’s face and Tony watches as he realizes where he is. 

For a moment, Tony’s uncertain, tenses in preparation for an unpleasant reaction. Maybe it had all been heat of the moment, the high of the night, of being around friends, and emotions being too amped up—

‘Yeah,’ Peter sighs, ‘Tony.’ And he smiles, snuggling his face into the pillow. ‘Can I kiss you?’

The knot that had been forming in his chest unwinds as if it had never been and Tony uses the arm around Peter to drag him closer until Peter’s half on top of him. What’s morning breath, anyway? He nudges at Peter’s chin with his nose and presses their mouths together, feeling something settle inside him as Peter scrambles into place over him, swinging a leg over Tony to sit on him. But he’s clumsy with sleep still and almost slips and bashes their lips together. As it is, Tony’s able to steady him, hands going around Peter’s waist.

Tony likes this. 

He really likes the feel of Peter on him, under him. With him.

He can’t help the smugness that courses through him though when Peter winces and readjusts himself. And then plants his ass right on Tony’s dick. Tony arches his brow at him.

‘I think we’re going to have to talk about the importance of age and its impact on refractory periods,’ Tony says.

Peter laughs, whole body shaking with it as he lays his whole body on top of Tony’s in a reverse of how they’d fallen asleep a few hours earlier. Tony hadn’t even finished pulling out before Peter’s gentle snores began. The memory of that, to Tony’s surprise, manages to make Tony’s dick twitch. Huh.

‘Tony,’ Peter says again, like he’s tasting it on his tongue, ‘um, is this okay?’

Tony thinks about it. He’d never been too clingy with his partners. He’d always enjoyed the closeness but hadn’t needed to be wrapped up in them, had even gotten up and left the room a couple of times when it got to be too much. 

Especially during the times after the War.

But—there’s no sense of being stifled now. Just—contentment.

God. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

‘Yeah, Pete. This is good.’

‘Okay,’ Peter says and presses his face into Tony’s neck. ‘I slept great, by the way,’ he continues, voice sounding more like he’s about to fall back asleep than anything else.

‘Yeah,’ Tony says, still a little stunned himself. ‘Me too. I’d say if we do that every night, we’ll probably be averaging more sleep than the whole city put together. Could throw in a little day time activity too, just to be on the safe side.’

Peter snorts and his hair tickles Tony’s chin and cheek. He’s stroking Tony’s flank, up and down, not seeming to realize he’s doing it. ‘My ass kinda hurts.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Tony lifts his head up off the pillow to look down at said ass and pats it appreciatively, giving it a squeeze for good measure. And also because he can. He tries to remember what had held him back from doing this for so long but decides stupidity isn’t worth remembering. ‘I’d say sorry, but…’

Peter shrugs. ‘I like it.’ Then, in a lower tone, ‘I liked all of it.’

Tony turns his head, affection blooming, and presses a kiss to Peter’s hair. 

‘We’re both in this right?’ Peter asks.

‘Yeah.’ Tony shuts his eyes. He’s pretty comfortable. Almost like he can fall right back to sleep right now if he wants to. ‘You and me. We got this.’ His mind quiets down. He feels the press of Peter’s lips on his throat and then grunts as Peter gets more comfortable, slipping to the side but keeping his weight draped over Tony. Tony turns into it, runs a hand up Peter’s thigh and drags it up and over his hip, enjoying the feel of Peter’s soft cock brushing against Tony’s naked skin.

‘Sleep some more?’ Peter asks.

‘Hmm. Sounds good.’

They fall asleep as the first rays of sunshine touch the sky, with a small cat curled up at their feet watching over them.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading all the way through!
> 
> If you enjoyed the fic, please follow me at atanih88.tumblr.com for upcoming fic updates and other fannish stuff. 
> 
> ♥


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